


Trickster's Rite

by RosaleenBan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Big Bang Challenge, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Happy Ending, M/M, Magical Bonds, Pagan God!Gabriel, Pagans are not evil, Post-Season/Series 07 Finale, Purgatory, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaleenBan/pseuds/RosaleenBan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean and Cas disappear with the Leviathans, Sam does everything in his power to bring them back. When a pagan ritual brings back the Trickster instead, Sam finds himself bound to Gabriel, and the two have to work together to mount a rescue straight through Purgatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ritual

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Paxdracona for her wonderful art, and to ChaiTea16 for being an amazing beta.
> 
> To see more AMAZING art, check out this link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3406796

 

The altar was a large, imposing thing. A stone slab lain over four stone posts, in the middle of a five pointed star in a circle carved into the bare earth. Sam saw crude symbols carved into the slab itself, and feathers and crescents around the legs of the altar – crow’s feathers and crescent moons, he remembered the woman saying. The symbols of their god and goddess, respectively.

There had been an old woman, Sam remembered. She had told him something – something so important, but he couldn’t remember. She was gone. Everything was gone, but the altar and the pentagram, and the evergreen trees far beyond it.

Where was he? Wasn’t there something he was supposed to do?

The drums were suddenly distracting. Where had they come from? They had always been there, he thought. Steady beats, deep like thunder, beating in time with his heart.

There was something he had to do.

Sam grit his teeth. He was a hunter. A _hunter_. He should know this.

 He walked up to the altar in a daze, finding more symbols carved into the top of it. In the middle, he found a knife. It was straight and thin, made simply of silver and polished to gleam like a gemstone. 

**_Athame._** The word whispered through the circle.

He reached for it. There was something to do with the athame. The old woman had told him something about it. Why couldn’t he remember?

 

**One week ago**

 

Sam was devastated when he rolled into town, a shell of a man behind the wheel of the Impala. Dick Roman was gone, back in Purgatory with the other Leviathans. But so was Dean, and Castiel with him.

Sam was _alone._ No Dean. No Bobby. No Cas, or Ellen or Jo or even the Campbell’s, terrible family though they were. Dad, Jess, even Brady and the others from Stanford. All of them were gone; dead or out of reach. 

He sat there, in the parking lot of a shitty motel, silently staring up at the neon signs. He wondered, briefly, if he should even bother. Why should he waste someone else’s money to get a room? Why bother taking time hustling pool or running scams, hunting down monsters and always running? Why go on with any of it? He had a trunk full of weapons, he could easily make sure he didn’t have to do it anymore; didn’t have to face it all alone –

He cut off that thought before it could fully develop. Dean had come back from Hell. They’d come back from Heaven together. Dammit, Dean hadn’t even _died_ this time. There was no body. He was just gone. Gone but _alive._

Sam would bring him back. Him and Cas, if he could, but he’d at least get Dean.

He took a deep breath and got out of the car, quickly checking his wallet for the name on his card. He would get a room here, rest a day or two, and then make a plan.

 

…

 

The need for food eventually drove him out of the motel room the next day. There was apparently a diner about a quarter mile down the road, so he decided to get a meal there, and another to go for dinner. If he was lucky, it would last him through lunch the next day, too, and he wouldn’t have to go out again.

He was stopped abruptly just as he got to the sidewalk, when a hand suddenly rested itself on his arm.

He was turned around with his hand on Ruby’s knife before he could consciously process it.

“Sorry.” A small blonde woman, maybe twenty-five, splayed her empty hands, showing him she was unarmed. She glanced down at the knife. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you Sam Winchester?”

He raised one eyebrow. “Why?”

“We – my friend told me I would find you here. I think you can help us.”

“Your friend?” Sam asked skeptically, keeping one hand on his blade.

She nodded, hesitant. “I – um...” She took another breath, straightening up as though to fortify her resolve. “My name is Kristen. One of my – my friends is in trouble. She’s been possessed.”

Sam nodded. He had caught that self-correction, and he was wary, but if demons were involved…

“And you think I can help you?” he asked carefully.

She nodded. “Deena, another friend, told us you were coming. She – she saw it in a dream. Said that you could help, and gave your description.” She smiled tentatively. “You’re kinda hard to miss.”

“So you knew I’d be here, at this motel, and you were waiting for me?” Sam asked.

She blushed. “Well, maybe not here,” she confessed, half shrugging her shoulders. “We’ve maybe set up shop at every motel in town.”

“Right,” Sam said. He took a flask out of his pocket. It was so habitual to carry it with him, like Ruby’s knife, he had automatically put it there on his way out. He was glad – everything about this scene reminded him of when Ruby came to him after the Hellhounds took Dean. “I’m sorry about this,” he said, unscrewing the cap. Then he splashed it on her face, waiting for a reaction.

The only one he got was exasperated confusion. “What was that?” she asked, nervousness traded for annoyance.

He smiled sheepishly. “Holy water,” he told her honestly. “I – uh – I wanted to make sure you weren’t a demon.”

She rolled her eyes. “If I were a demon, would I be asking you to _help_ me with this?” she asked.

“You obviously haven’t met the demons I have,” Sam muttered.  “How did you know I would be here?”

“I told you, Deena had a dream.”

“Of course. Premonitions in dreams,” Sam said. _Because that never led to any trouble._

“Well, maybe not so much a dream, as a vision?” Kristen said, her voice thinning out as she raised its pitch questioningly toward the end.

“Alright,” Sam sighed. “I’m hungry. How about you come to the diner with me, and tell me what all this is really about.”

She looked at him hopefully and nodded.

“Only the truth, though,” he warned, giving her a stern look he usually reserved for Dean.

“Of course,” she said, looking suitably cowed.

She followed him to the diner, sitting across from him and ordering her own sandwich before she started to talk. Sam just waited silently, not really up for any of this, but recognizing duty when it called.

“So,” she said at last. “First of all, I guess you’d figure it out sooner or later. My, um, my friends – they’re actually my coven members.”

“You’re witches,” Sam said quickly, straightening his back automatically, and wishing he had checked for hex bags.

“Pagans,” she corrected him. “Neopagans, if you must, but please don’t. Our traditions are older than the Christians’. The religion comes first for us, the magick second.”

“Religion?” Sam asked.

She sighed. “You know, pagans? Most people think we’re kinda New Agey?  Goddess worshippers – we believe in dual male and female deities? Wiccans are the big thing now, but there’s, like, a million paths?” Her look clearly said, _You know about demons, but you don’t know_ this _?_

Sam had heard of them before of course, but they weren’t the kind of witches with real power to throw around, at least not in his experience. They shouldn’t have known he was coming, not unless one of them have made a deal with a demon for her powers, and in that case they wouldn’t need an exorcism. He nodded slowly.

“Anyway, we’re kinda – we have power, but we tend to keep it under wraps. Like I said, one of our members was possessed. Something nasty got her, and we can’t break it out. We have her contained, but she’s just –”

The girl broke off, shuddering.

“And you want me to exorcise the demon? How do you even know I can do that?” Sam asked.

“I told you. Deena prayed. She meditated. The goddess gave her a vision, and it was of you.” She shrugged, as if that should explain everything.

He should just go chant at the girl; if they already had her contained, the exorcism would be easy. But that would mean going back to the job, and Sam wasn’t sure he could. Not yet. Not until he had his brother back. He shook his head. “I don’t do that stuff anymore.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What? But you have to! We need you to! This is my friend – Chelsea – she’s being _possessed_. By something bad. Like, seriously evil. And you can help her. Doesn’t that mean you have a responsibility to?”

“Listen,” Sam said seriously, putting one hand out placating. He knew there was no way he could really let this poor girl down. Especially not when she was begging like that. “I’ll help you, ok? I can get rid of the demon, send it to Hell. But after that, I’m gone. You’ve never met me.”

She frowned, suddenly staring as if she was trying to look through him. “Why?”

Sam pursed his lips. This girl didn’t really need to hear his problems, but he couldn’t help himself. If he was going to help her, the least she could do was listen to him bitch over their meal.

“I lost someone. Recently,” he told her. “My brother, and a friend..”

“They died?” she asked. “I’m so –”

“They’re not dead,” he interrupted sharply, unable to hear her condolences – unable even consider the possibility that they were. He gave her an apologetic looks before continuing more softly. “Just lost. I’m trying to get them back.”

“Where are they?” she asked.

He sighed, drawing out the moment. “I don’t know for sure, but I think they’re in Purgatory,” he said at last, half expecting her to call him crazy and walk out.

Instead, she nodded. “Beyond our realm,” she said knowingly.

Sam looked up, confusion clear on his face. “How could you –?”

“We may be able to help you, too,” Kristen told him, a smile creeping onto her face. “If you could teach the coven how to exorcise a demon, we might have a ritual to call back your brother.”

 

**Present**

Sam wavered at the edge of the altar, staring down at the athame.

A chant picked up, an octave above the drums, pressing into his mind. He paused, his hand over the hilt of the blade, trying to make out the words. They were in an odd language, though. One he didn’t recognize, never mind understand.

**_Life from blood, given freely_** _._ The old woman’s words echoed faintly in the clearing, carrying over the chant.

His blood. But there was something wrong with his. It was tainted. Wrong. She couldn’t possibly mean his blood.

The chant pressed harder, a physical force against his skin, taking strength from the deep tattoo of the drums. It was urging him on.

**_Not wrong. Perfect_**. Although he couldn’t understand the words of the ancient language, he could infer the meaning behind them. There was something special about his blood – something that had nothing to do with the demons that had polluted it.

Dean. His blood was bound to Dean’s. It would bring his brother back to him.

Sam picked up the athame, fingering the warm leather of the hilt.

**_Life from blood, given freely._ **

He was ready for this, eager even. His brother would be proud, knowing he had brought him back, and he hadn’t even needed to deal with demons to do it.

Sam pressed the blade against the back of his opposite arm, holding it over the altar.

The chanting was louder now, coming to a crescendo against his mind. There was promise in it – promise of life, and something more.

He only needed a few drops, she said. Nothing like the old rituals. No sacrifices, not anymore.

**_Life from blood, given freely._ **

He pulled the blade down quickly, setting his jaw against a hiss when he felt the pain. Blood trickled down his arm, onto the symbols of the altar. Red blood pooled in one of the feathers, coloring it in flame.

_Like a phoenix_ , he thought.

 

**Three days ago**

 

“You’re lucky it’s winter,” Miriam, the high priestess of the coven told Sam, her voice rough with age but her body still strong as she guided him through her living room and into the kitchen. She took out two glasses and some ice, filling them with sweet tea. He took his and sat down without a word.

He had been here before, earlier this week, but only to exorcise the demon from the poor girl who had been kept down in the basement, restrained so she wouldn’t hurt herself or others. He had been impressed by the devil’s trap the coven had used, and thought maybe they might know a thing or two about real magic.

“The winter solstice is this week,” she continued. “Yule.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s all about perception,” she replied. “To you, it’s about the birth of a god a few millennia ago. To us, Yule is a time of rebirth every year – a time when our god is reborn after his Samhain death.”

“And you think that could help us bring back Dean?” Sam asked.

She nodded. “That’s the idea. If there was ever a time to bring one back from the land of the dead, it would be Yule. Or Samhain, though I don’t know if that would work for one still living.”

“How do we know we won’t bring others back, too? I’m sure you’ve seen at least a little of it on the news, the kind of violence these things are prone to. How can we make sure it’s just Dean and Cas?”

She pursed her lips. “The spell requires blood,” she said slowly. “‘Life from blood, freely given,’ our book says. Your blood will make sure the spell focuses on your brother. I’m not sure we can bring this Cas along, though.”

Sam raised his eyebrow. “How much blood?” he asked warily.

“Just a few drops,” she assured him. “This is 2014, witches don’t exactly perform ritualistic sacrifices anymore. Maybe in books and movies, but not in the real world.”

_You’d be surprised,_ Sam thought, but prudently kept it to himself.

 

**Present**

Sam turned and looked around, not entirely sure what was supposed to happen. This was supposed to bring Dean back, but there was no telling how.

Light flashed behind him, burning grotesque shadows into his vision for a brief moment. A crack soon joined it, the altar itself straining under the pressure of the magic. Sam felt something old and beautiful, edged with laughter, sorrow and spite flash through his consciousness, joining him to the alter like a streak of lightening. Sam turned around.

“Honey, I’m home!” The Trickster stared down at him from his seat on the stone slab. The grin he gave Sam was a caricature of innocence. “Miss me?”

“Fuck,” Sam said, looking him over. The spell was broken, the veil lifted, and the coven seemed to materialize around the circle. They still seemed far away though, as though they were chanting behind a glass wall.

Gabriel was the very image of a pagan god: naked from the waist up, his normally combed back hair wild. He was more toned than Sam remembered, pecs and shoulders hard and built, though he still had a bit of paunch around his stomach. His face, arms and chest were painted in odd, dark runes which Sam couldn’t identify. Definitely not Enochian, though.

The only thing the archangel wore was a length of leather wrapped around his waist. Sam noticed crow’s feathers braided into it: a symbol of the god the pagans worshipped.

_The god the pagans worshipped,_ Sam realized. Of course. The crow. The _Trickster._

“Where’s Dean?” Sam asked, suspicious. If Gabriel had hijacked the power to bring Dean back, what had happened to his brother? Was he still in Purgatory? Would that have killed him? Sam stepped into Gabriel’s personal space, using every inch of his imposing frame to try to intimidate the demigod. “This spell was for Dean! Where is he?!”

“Whoa, hold your horses, Sasquatch!” Gabriel said, putting up his hands in supplication. Sam felt a rush of calm from the archangel, then curiosity. The emotions retreated quickly, as though Gabriel was tamping them down. “I don’t know anything about where Dean is. I was quietly minding my own business in the land of dead angels before you called me back.”

“I didn’t call you anywhere,” Sam told him, not backing down.

“Oh, you did,” Gabriel told him knowingly. “You just didn’t know it.”

“They gave me the spell,” Sam said, motioning toward the coven beyond the circle. “They told me it would bring my _brother_ back.”

Gabriel looked over to them, understanding dawning on his face. “You know what? I bet they thought it would,” he said, almost apologetically.

“Then what happened?” Sam asked.

“Insurance policy. Duh,” Gabriel said leaning back on his elbows to look up at the sky. “Their god – i.e., _me_ for this particular coven, cause they focus on the Trickster – was dead. They did a resurrection spell on Yule. The day their god is symbolically resurrected every year.” He looked over at Sam. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

“But you’re not actually a god,” Sam said, trying to process that. “You’re an angel.”

“Wrong again!” Gabriel crowed. “I _am_ an archangel. But I am _also_ a demigod. Didn’t you figure that out yet?”

“How?” Sam asked. He looked over Gabriel again. “And really, you think you could put some clothes on?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and ignored that last part. “That is _not_ something you want me to explain. Your little brain couldn’t handle it. No offence. I’m not sure if my brain handles it sometimes.” He paused, sitting up, then told Sam, “That’s actually not true at all. I was just trying to make you feel better.”

Gabriel jumped down from the altar, seemingly unable to contain his energy. 

“Alright, you know what, I’m out of here,” Sam said. He turned to stalk out of the circle, then thought the better of it. He pivoted back toward the archangel, wishing he had his angel blade on him, to show Gabriel he meant business if nothing else. “You. You’re lucky I don’t kill you after this. This was my _one chance_ to get them back. Stay away from me.”

He spared Miriam an apologetic glance, but she wasn’t watching him. The entire coven was transfixed on Gabriel: their god made flesh. Sam rolled his eyes and headed toward the Impala, parked nearby. He needed a new plan. He needed a new _life._

He just wished he knew where to start.


	2. Lost

It took the entire night, but Sam was thoroughly convinced that no amount of internet searching would bring him any closer to answers about Leviathans, Purgatory, or how to get Dean and Cas back.

Not that he should be surprised. He was probably the current global expert on all of those things, and even he didn’t have a damn clue. Maybe if he ever got to retire, he’d make an online archive for other hunters to use. Speed up research for the next generation.

Sam shook his head. His mind was wandering again. He was exhausted, and couldn’t focus on anything.

He closed his laptop, ready for bed.

Someone was in the room with him, he realized suddenly. He could _feel_ it. He reached for Ruby’s knife.

“So where are we going next?” Gabriel’s voice made Sam jump.

He turned around, finding the Trickster stretched out on his bed, thankfully fully clothed in the same jeans and green jacket Sam remembered from before. Sam silently counted to ten. It didn’t work.

“What are you doing here, Gabriel?” he asked with clipped words. “You know what? I don’t care. Go away.”

“No can do,” Gabriel said, giving an exaggerated shrug. “You’re stuck with me.”

“I’m – ?” Sam cut himself off. “What does that mean?”

“You know that whole ritual thing you did? The one where you spilled your blood and brought me back to life?” Gabriel asked innocently.

“Yes,” Sam bit out.

“Yeah, well….there was one _slight_ problem. It might have – maybe – well, there’s the teeeensiest possibility that you and I are bound. For the foreseeable future. I think.”

“You think?” Sam asked, dropping the blade on the table and covering his face with his hands. “You _think_ we’re stuck together? Why?”

“Told you. You spilled the blood. That means something,” Gabriel told him. “Also, I can’t get more than about mile away from you.”

“I so did not sign up for this,” Sam told Gabriel.

“You think I did?” Gabriel asked. He leaned back, trying to look cool and collected, but Sam could all but see the agitation beneath the surface. “I was looking forward to getting back to my life – my very fun, very private life, free of human distractions – and I find I can’t even cross the county line.” He snapped his fingers. “Hell, I can’t even take you with me across the county line, and that really should not be an issue.” He looked at his fingers. “We’re going to have to look into that one, too – I can’t think of anything that would make you immune to that. That’s dangerous.”

“How long?” Sam interrupted, really wishing he could just brush his teeth and fall into bed. He glanced at the motel clock. It was almost 3 am. “You said the foreseeable future. What does that mean?”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Gabriel told him seriously, almost sadly. “Things like this, they come at a price. I hope it’s temporary.”

“You hope? Great,” Sam muttered. “What does that even mean?”

“Well, this can go one of two ways. Either it’s my demigod side at work, and a price has to be paid – that is, for those who can’t keep up, I have to do something to repay you.”

“Or?” Sam asked after a moment.

“Or it’s more angelic. In which case: permanent.”

Sam’s eyes widened at the thought. “And you can’t tell?”

Gabriel shook his head.

Sam was so not equipped to handle this. He sighed. “I’m going to bed. You – do whatever it is you do, without me. Away from my room. How far did you say you could go?”

“A mile,” Gabriel told him.

Sam nodded. “Fine. You have a mile. It shouldn’t be too hard for you amuse yourself, Gabriel.” He knew he was being a bit of a jerk – God, Gabriel had _just_ come back from the dead, after he got himself killed _for_ them, and now he had to deal with this? – but Sam couldn’t find it in him to care. He was tired, and aimless, and he kinda blamed the archangel for his failure to rescue Dean.

Gabriel looked around the room for a moment, almost disappointed. Then he shrugged. “I suppose we could film the next episode of Casa Erotica in the motel,” the angel mused, but it sounded flat to Sam’s ears.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Out.”

Gabriel grimaced at him. “Fine,” he said.

With a snap, he was gone.

Five minutes later, Sam was on his bed, lights out, trying very hard not to think about anything.

It wasn’t working of course. He was focused on Dean – more than focused. Obsessed. He needed to get his brother back, somehow. Dean had already gone to Hell for him; there was no way he could leave him in purgatory alone now too.

Or not alone. With Castiel. Sam would save both of them.

And then he would deal with Gabriel. Maybe the archangel would go away on his own in time. If he was really lucky, Gabriel was just messing with him – trying to teach him a lesson about playing with magic he didn’t understand or something. (If so, it was a waste of time – that lesson was crystal clear, thank you very much.)

If luck was against him – which it usually was – the archangel would still be lingering by the time he got Dean and Cas. Maybe his brother’s angel would be able to help.

 

…

 

Fortunately, Gabriel didn’t show up the next day. He was absent the day after that, too, when Sam decided to leave town for New York. He was running into nothing but dead ends here, but he still had the key to one of his father’s storage lockers up there. The one where they had discovered that Dean was Michael’s vessel.

Sam did not want to go there again. Ever. But without Bobby or his library, and with most of the hunters he knew dead, he was running out of resources.

Gabriel didn’t show up while Sam was driving down the interstate, but he was conspicuous nonetheless. It was like being shadowed: it might be because Sam half-expected it, but he could almost feel the angel nearby, following him. It made him feel paranoid. He spent more time watching the rear view mirror than the road in front of him.

His resolution broke when he stopped for lunch. Dean would not appreciate coming back only to find that Sam had crashed his Baby because he was distracted by _Gabriel_ of all things.

So he went into a diner and got a salad to go, then found a nice secluded spot to park the Impala and eat.

“Alright, I give,” he said after he finished his meal, standing outside and leaning against the Impala’s hood. “Gabriel? I think we need to talk.”

Nothing happened. Of course. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Gabriel?” he repeated a little louder this time. “Look, I’m sorry for being a dick. Can you just come here and talk?”

 “Little weak on the groveling, don’t you think?” Gabriel asked, popping into view.

Sam stared at the archangel, completely unimpressed.

“Fine, fine. No groveling,” Gabriel said. “Why the change of heart, Samarino? Miss me?”

“You were following me,” Sam grated out.

“Uh, yeah,” Gabriel said, tone clearly implying a deep level of idiocy on Sam’s part. “I thought we had established that? I mean, I know human brains are a bit slow comparatively, but this is basic, even for you.”

Sam glared.

“I could feel you following me,” he elaborated after a moment.

“And?” Gabriel asked.

Sam was sure the angel was just being an ass now. He was not surprised.

“And it’s distracting,” Sam told him, scowling. “You might as well ride with me.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow and pointed at his chest. “Me?” he asked before looking over his shoulder as if seeing if anyone was behind him. “You’re asking me? To ride in your precious classic gas guzzler? Are sure you haven’t mixed me up with my brother? The broody one, with the angsty, vaguely kinky thing going on with _your_ brother?”

“Just get in,” Sam said, scowl still firmly in place.

And really, what had he done to deserve this?

Gabriel threw him a smirk before opening the passenger side door and slipping in. Sam closed his eyes for a moment, hoping to find some sort of patience or strength or something.

Gabriel was talking again as soon as he opened his own door. “Taking over for Righteous Boy and his angelic sidekick? Isn’t he usually the one who treats this thing like his other boyfriend? Or maybe Castiel is the other man?”

“Fuck off,” Sam told Gabriel, not bothering to elaborate. 

“Sooooo…? You still haven’t told me,” Gabriel pestered. “Where are they?”

Sam kept his eyes firmly in front of him as he pulled out onto the road. “Not here,” he repeated sternly. He did not want to talk about this. Not to Gabriel, who would probably just tell him to give up and accept their fate, or something equally inane.

“Oh,” Gabriel said seriously, apparently putting two and two together. Thankfully, he dropped the subject. “Well, then, where are _we_ going?”

“New York,” Sam told him. “Upstate.”

“Ooookay,” Gabriel said, drawing out the word. “And what are we going up to New York _for_?”

“Research,” Sam told him honestly.

He picked out a cassette tape at random and popped it into the tape deck. Gabriel might have tried to talk more over Metallica, but Sam studiously ignored his attempts, and he wisely stopped after a few minutes.

 

…

 

Even making good time, it would take them at least two days to get up to the storage locker.

They stopped in Indiana overnight, at a cheap motel in a pretty depressed downtown area. It was the kind of place even he and Dean usually avoided, cheap and dirty, with only the barest minimum accommodations and gross enough to make them both cringe. On his own, though – or, with just him and Gabriel – he couldn’t really justify paying more for a better room.

“You couldn’t at least upgrade us to the bug-free package?” Gabriel asked when they walked in.

And, okay. That was disgusting. Even for him.  Maybe they should find somewhere else.

“Bugs? Really?” he asked.

Gabriel shrugged noncommittally.

“You don’t have to stay,” Sam told him, annoyed.

“Yeah, I think not,” Gabriel snorted. “I leave, and you’re going to get a disease or something. And I’d probably heal you, cause hey, I’m nice like that, but I’m pretty sure it would be gross. Like, really gross.”

The archangel snapped, and the room suddenly morphed around Sam. The single bed was bigger, with clean white linens instead of the stained brown ones they had walked in to. The dingy blue carpet was suddenly plush and fresh, and even the faded tan wallpaper was replaced with fresh white paint. A new table popped up near the window, with two sturdy wooden chairs where they could sit comfortably to eat.

“What –?”

“Don’t thank me, Samsquatch, this was totally selfish,” Gabriel told him. “I’m used to more comfortable digs.”

Sam was about to ask him if it was really necessary, but stopped himself. It’s not like Gabriel needed to sleep – or even to stay in this room overnight. There was really no reason to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Thanks,” he said instead, blatantly ignoring the archangel’s request. “And it’s Sam.”

Gabriel smirked. “Sure it is, Sam-a-lam.”

Sam rolled his eyes and put his bag down before sitting down experimentally on the bed. And god, it was comfortable. Firm, just like he liked it, covered in a plush, downy comforter and pillows he could just sink into. He bit back a smile, not knowing how the angel had known his preferences, but sure that the bed had been fixed with him specifically in mind.

“I’m gonna go get some dinner, then get to bed,” Sam told Gabriel instead. “There’s a diner down the road…”

“I’d love to come!” Gabriel interrupted, smile bright and eager. Sam couldn’t say why, but there was something so lonely about that sunny smile.

Sam sighed and wondered for a moment if it was worth trying to deter the archangel. He decided he didn’t actually want to. “Alright, but we’re walking. I need to stretch my legs.”

“No problem,” Gabriel said. His smile turned into a smirk “I could do with some people watching.”

“No finding marks, though,” Sam told him. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d _not_ kill anyone for as long as we’re stuck together.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, as if to question his sanity. “Are you trying to tell me what to do, Samsquatch?”

“I’m asking,” Sam corrected him, realizing his mistake a moment too late. “Please?”

Gabriel looked up to the right, clearly trying to convey that he was thinking hard about it. “Ummm…so, let me get this straight: I’m stuck with you, can’t even bring you along for my own fun, and now you want me to quit the Trickster gig, too? What do I get out of this?”

“My eternal gratitude?” Sam asked weakly. “Also, you don’t have to stop the tricks. Just maybe the ones that end in death? Or maiming? The one with the aliens was actually really funny.”

Gabriel chuckled, his whole stance relaxing. “That was a good one, if I do say so myself.”

“Dean loved it,” Sam told him. “So, nonlethal tricks? Consider it a challenge. If only because I did bring you back from the dead. Please?”

“Alright, Sammich.” Gabriel told him. “Even though that was _totally_ a mistake on your part. I guess I can get creative.”

Sam let out a breath, half relieved and half exasperated. “Thanks. Let’s get going.”

 

…

 

Dinner with an archangel was…surprisingly nice, Sam realized. Unlike his brothers, Gabriel understood food – loved it, gluttonously, like Dean. The archangel ordered worse than Dean, though: a burger red enough to still be mooing, fries smothered in two kinds of fake cheeses, a milkshake, a slice of cheesecake, and a slice of pie. À la mode, of course.

Just listening to him order made Sam feel bloated. He ordered a garden salad and water with lemon in protest.

“Where does it all go?” Sam asked once his meal was finished, watching in awe as Gabriel finished the last of his pie. “Do you really use mojo to just make it all disappear, or do you metabolize it?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Metabolizing is hard. I have a personal black hole instead. Easier that way.”

Sam stared at the angel, not entirely sure if he was serious.

Gabriel looked up at his face and grinned impishly. The smile reached his eyes, making the hazel sparkle and corners of his eyes crinkle.

Sam looked away as soon as he realized he was staring.

“No. No black holes. Just archangelic awesomeness,” Gabriel assured him. “I mean, I probably _could_ if I wanted, but you know.” He shrugged. “I usually go with the easiest solutions.”

“Like killing my brother to prove a point?” Sam couldn’t stop himself from voicing the thought as soon as it formed.

Gabriel deflated at the question. “Touché,” he said weakly. “Not my best moment, there.”

“No, not really,” Sam told him, slumping into the booth.

“I –” Gabriel’s voice broke off, his eyes lowering. “Look, I’m sorry about that. It was a dick move.”

“Yeah,” Sam said noncommittally, unsure if he could forgive the Trickster, but equally unsure if he could survive being trapped near him if he didn’t. “Let’s get out of here.”

Gabriel looked out the window pointedly, and Sam followed his gaze. Great. At some point the sky had opened up, and it was pouring out. It was a half mile walk back to the motel.

“Any chance you could snap us back there?” he asked pitifully, throwing a few bills onto the check on their table to cover their meal before standing up to gather his jacket.

Gabriel gave a half shrug. “Didn’t work before. Not sure it will now.”

“Well, could you try once we’re out of here? If you’re sticking around, it’s kinda the least you could do.”

Gabriel gave him a heatless glare, but stood up and led the way outside.

They stayed under the awning outside, skirting the building until they found a secluded spot away from any windows. As they stood there, Gabriel brought up a hand to put on Sam’s bicep, but stopped at the last second.

“This ok, Sasquatch?” the archangel asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Sam told him, holding himself still and bracing himself for the ride.

“Good.” Gabriel grabbed his arm firmly, and then snapped.

It was smoother than most angelic flights. Sam’s stomach only turned a little when he suddenly found himself in his motel room – still updated to Gabriel’s tastes.

“Huh,” Gabriel said, nonplussed. “I didn’t…actually expect that to work.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent. Honestly, he hadn’t either.

The archangel shook himself, as though physically dismissing his confusion. “Wanna try again?”

Before Sam could respond, Gabriel snapped.

Nothing happened.

He snapped again, then looked at his hand and shook it out like a pen that had run dry. He snapped again.

Still nothing happened.

“Trouble?” Sam asked, forcing himself to hide his amusement at the Trickster’s unease.

Gabriel glared. He took his arm off Sam’s shoulder and disappeared.

A moment later, he was back again, his frown deepened.

Sam pressed his lips together, thinking. Apparently, this sudden impotence had to do with him specifically

“Gabriel, could you bring us somewhere where it’s not raining?” he asked.

Gabriel raised one of his all-too-expressive eyebrows, but put a hand on Sam’s bicep again. This time, when he snapped, they were suddenly outside in a park somewhere.

“Consent,” Sam said, a smile creeping up on his face. “You need my consent, don’t you?”

“I knew they called you the smart one for a reason,” Gabriel grumbled, clearly put out by this turn of events. 

Sam let his smile grow into a full on know-it-all smirk.

 “So where are we?” he asked, looking around. It was early here, pre-dawn light competing with the setting full moon, even though it was just before midnight back in Indiana.

 “Greece,” Gabriel told him. “Just outside of Athens.”

Sam raised one eyebrow. “Really?”

Gabriel shrugged. “It’s not raining here.”

Sam rolled his eyes, unable to argue. “Well could you take us back now?” he asked before letting out a yawn. “I need to get some sleep.”

“Aww, but we just got here!” Gabriel complained.

“And I’ve been driving all day,” Sam reminded him, and he could hear a slight whine slipping into his voice. “Like twelve hours. Come on, let’s get back.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and took Sam’s arm again. “All right,” he agreed.

“I’ll come back another time, when I’m not exhausted,” Sam told him impulsively. It seemed to be the right thing to say, though, because Gabriel was grinning.

A moment later, Sam was back in the motel, alone.

He had to admit, he was somewhat relieved. He could use some time alone.

 

…

 

Gabriel was back the next day

Of course he was. He had been there for days. But he was visible when Sam woke up. Lounging in a brand new couch he had conjured in the motel room. Watching Sam.

“God, that’s creepy,” Sam muttered, trying to ignore the archangel as he roused himself for his morning routine.

Gabriel just smirked at him.

But when Sam got out of the bathroom, a steaming cup of black coffee was waiting for him on the motel dresser, flanked by a sugar and cream set. 

“So, New York?” Gabriel asked as Sam fixed his coffee.

“Hopefully,” Sam told him. He took a sip of the coffee – and it was _good._ The kind of expensive low-acid organic stuff he used to drink to piss Dean off.  “Looks like the rain cleared up. We should get there by sundown if we leave soon.”

“Or I could just snap us in,” Gabriel suggested.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. The Trickster was right. And volunteering to help?

“Yeah – I guess that could work too,” Sam said between sips of coffee. “But we can’t bring the Impala. It’s warded against angels.”

“I think I can handle bringing us back to your brother’s girlfriend when we’re done,” Gabriel said dryly. “I’m sure she’ll be ok, too.”

Sam rolled his eyes, more at Dean than Gabriel. “Yeah. Right.”

“So, where to?” Gabriel asked, relaxing back against his seat.

“Castle Storage,” Sam told him. “In Black Rock – uh, by Buffalo, New York. A unit under the name Edgar Casey.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “That permission, Sam?”

Sam gave a half shrug and put his coffee down before moving over to sit by Gabriel, where the angel could touch him easily. “Yeah, that’s permission.”

“Cool.”

Gabriel put one hand on Sam’s thigh, and used the other to snap.

 

…

 

The unit was unsettling in its stability. Nothing had changed since the last time Sam had been here, except perhaps the addition of an extra layer of dust. It was eerily silent, and Gabriel seemed content not to change that as Sam walked slowly through the shelves, looking for an answer.

_You’re the Michael sword._

Zacharias’ words echoed in Sam’s head. They had changed everything. Everything about their lives until that point had been reframed, rearranged, made to fit a new story.

Sam glanced down at a low table, gut clenching when he recognized Dean’s first leather jacket. He couldn’t have been ten when Dad got it for him, way too young for the soft brown leather, but he wanted it. Sam had inherited it when Dean grew out of it. He didn’t realize it had ended up here.

 _There's got to be another way._ Sam might have remembered Dean’s words with more conviction than they originally held, but only because conviction was something he was used to hearing in his brother’s voice. Conviction was something Dean had taught Sam.

Sam _would_ save his brother.

He walked passed the leather jacket and on toward a small shelf of books. Skimming the titles, it was clear none of them had anything on worlds beyond their own, never mind Purgatory specifically.

“Mind telling me what we’re looking for?” Gabriel asked from the corner where he was standing. “Maybe I can help.”

“No,” Sam snapped back, knowing the knee-jerk reaction to keep Gabriel away from his search from Dean was unreasonable – stupid even – but not quite able to stop himself.

“Alright, I’ll be here, then,” the archangel said with a sigh.

Sam stopped himself from telling the angel to stay quiet just in time, realizing that the request would do nothing but encourage him.

Instead he moved through the unit, taking his time and scrutinizing each item. It took him four or five hours to get to the subdivided weapons room. It was exactly as he remembered – and they should really do something with those grenades and mines, he decided, once Dean was back to help. Because he would be. Soon.

The curse boxes were lined up on their shelves, right where they should have been. The dust had settled and blended into the space of the missing one, and Sam hardly noticed its absence. He put one hand out to touch the nearest one, a black wooden one with engraved silver runes.

“Stop,” Gabriel said, his voice hard and terse.

Suddenly the archangel was at his elbow, pushing his hand away from the boxes with preternatural strength.

“What –”

“The runes are weakening,” Gabriel said, pointing to the worn lines at the edges of the box. “It wanted you to touch it.”

Sam snapped his hand back to his side, his eyebrows surging up to his hairline. “Can you – ?”

“Duh,” Gabriel said. He waved at the box with a flourish, and Sam watched as the silver grew back into the fading lines, restoring the runes.

“Thanks,” Sam said, looking down and away from the Trickster.

Gabriel gave a half shrug. “Find what you’re looking for?” he asked instead of answering.

Sam sighed. “Nope.” He sighed and looked down the rows of shelves again.

“Anything I can do?” the Trickster asked softly.

Sam shook his head. The place really wasn’t that big, and he had scoured it. If there was anything here about Purgatory, he would have found it already.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

“Back to the motel?” Gabriel asked, taking Sam’s arm.

“Maybe a liquor store first?” Sam asked. Usually drinking was Dean’s coping mechanism, but at the moment, Sam decided he might as well indulge.

“You _do_ realize who you’re hanging with, right?” Gabriel asked, one eyebrow raised. “Whatever you think you want from the store, you’re wrong. I can get better.”

Sam looked up at Gabriel for a moment, taking in the angel’s warm expression beneath the irreverent eyebrows. He pressed his lips together. Gabriel was really trying to make the best of this situation, being nice. Sam should appreciate that.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Sam told him. “The room, then. And whiskey, please?”

Gabriel snapped, and Sam found himself back in the restyled motel room. The small table was set up with a huge sushi boat and a bottle of Talisker. Sam did a double take. _35 year Talisker_.

“Seriously? Sushi and whisky?” he asked.

“Trust me on this,” Gabriel told him with a wink. “Or if not, wait until after dinner for the Scotch.”

Sam eyed the archangel.  “I’m not hungry.”

“Yes you are,” Gabriel told him. “You’re human, and all you had today was coffee. No Scotch without food.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, but Gabriel just glared.

“Fine,” he said after a minute. He could stomach a few pieces of salmon before drowning himself in Scotch.

Gabriel looked triumphant. Sam ignored him.

 

…

 

Thousand dollar bottles of Scotch are not generally meant to be drank in a single night.

Sam couldn’t bring himself to care. Gabriel had conjured the bottle – he could probably get himself more if he really wanted it. And Sam _needed_ it. He was alone, without family or friends, and he had no way to bring any of them back. And the Scotch was smooth and inviting, welcoming him into a world of delirium and dreamless sleep.

He _needed_ it.

He might have said that out loud.

“Not sure you need anything but water at this point, kiddo,” Gabriel told him, pulling the bottle out of reach when Sam tried to pour another glass.

“You don’t understand,” Sam pouted. He laid back on the far-too-comfortable bed, empty glass still in hand, and looked up at the no-longer-stained ceiling. Gabriel really _had_ thought of everything.

Gabriel sighed and sat down next to Sam, looking down and into his eyes from this vantage point. “You could tell me,” the archangel pointed out.

Sam frowned and shook his head. “I don’t need you telling me to let him go,” he said, letting more than he wanted to slip. “Haven’t we been here before?”

“Deano?” Gabriel asked.

When Sam didn’t respond, he crinkled his eyebrows together, amber eyes questioning. “I thought we were past that. I thought you knew I wanted you kids to stick together in the end.”

Sam let his head fall to the side heavily, averting Gabriel’s eyes. “You wanted the humans to win,” he argued halfheartedly.

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t care what happened to you two,” Gabriel told him. “You Winchesters grew on me. Like a fungus.”

Sam scrunched his nose and glared at Gabriel. It was amazing how childish the archangel could be.

“Come on, let me in on the secret. What happened with Dean?” he cajoled. “You keep forgetting I’m an archangel, don’t you? I might actually be able to help.”

“Why would you?” Sam asked.

Gabriel shrugged. “Like I said, you Winchesters grew on me. I actually liked your big bro when I first met him, but you’re definitely my favorite.” He winked at Sam. “And I told you about pagan magic. You did me a favor by bringing me back from the dead – maybe if I help restore your codependent fraternity of two I’ll be free.”

Sam took a few moments to think that over. Slowly. The whisky was definitely taking its toll. _Fuck it_ , he decided finally. What was the worst that could happen?

“Purgatory,” Sam said, watching with amusement as the archangel’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Purgatory?” Gabriel asked slowly. “How in the name of dear old Dad did your brother land himself _there_?”

Sam shrugged, his shoulders moving awkwardly against the mattress. “We took out a Leviathan. A big one. And Dean and Cas went with him.”

Gabriel nodded, though surprise was still evident on his face. Sam almost laughed at it, but then he remembered Dean, and he frowned instead.

“I think it’s time to get you to bed, Sam-a-lam,” the archangel said after a minute. “We’ll talk in the morning, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright,” Sam agreed, reaching for the bottle again.

“No more of this,” Gabriel chided, putting the bottle down on the floor, out of reach. “You wanna get changed, or do you want me to get you in bed? I’m not sure how much you can handle at this point.”

“I’ll do it,” Sam told the archangel with a glare. He might be drunk, but he could take care of himself.

He pushed up off the bed, then thought the better of it when his head began to spin. Instead, he shuffled up the bed until he could curl up with his head on his pillows.

He halfheartedly toed his shoes off, and thought very hard about pushing down his jeans as well, but ultimately decided it was too much effort. If Dean were here, he’d have taken care of it for him – that’s what brothers were for, when one was too sick to take care of themselves, right? – but for tonight, he’d deal.

He was asleep before he could get too upset about that.

 

…

 

Sam woke up early, feeling surprisingly alive.

He didn’t have a headache, or even sore muscles or bitter breath from the scotch. He felt relaxed, refreshed – ready to start looking for an answer again, actually.

He was under the covers, he realized after a moment. His socks, jeans and flannel were gone, though he was still wearing boxers and his tee-shirt.

He looked over at the nightstand to check the alarm clock (7:15 AM), and saw a bottle of water set out for him.

 Further out, when he bothered to look, he found Gabriel lounging on his conjured couch, tossing crumpled up bits of paper into the air with one hand, and shooting them with the pointer finger of the other. Each time he “hit” one, it would erupt into tiny flames, always burning up before they hit the floor.

“You’re a menace,” Sam said, not even bothering to hide his amused smile.

Gabriel just looked up at him and winked.

“Thanks,” Sam told him, voice quiet. “For – umm”

“For not letting your body teach you a lesson about drinking that much liquor?” Gabriel asked knowingly.

Sam flushed and looked down. He really didn’t usually drink like that. He was almost certain he embarrassed himself.

“No problem!” Gabriel said, suddenly all jovial smiles and wide arm movements. “What’s life without a little hedonism, right?”

“Even for an angel?” Sam asked.

“ _Especially_ for an archangel,” Gabriel agreed. “I mean, have you _met_ any of my brothers? They’re like social experiments on what happens when we reject fun.”

Sam smiled, wisely keeping his mouth shut on the subject of Gabriel’s family.

 “Have something to eat,” Gabriel told him when he didn’t respond, nodding to the small table where he had already set up a full continental breakfast.

Sam smiled and pushed himself up off the bed. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he sat at the table, making himself a plate of fruit and pancakes.

“Speaking of brothers,” Gabriel said after letting Sam eat in silence for a few minutes. “Yours and mine. In Purgatory. Maybe we should do something about that?”

Sam scowled. Right. He had told Gabriel about that. “I’ve been _trying_.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been trying wrong,” Gabriel told him. He snapped and the paper in his lap was gone, replaced with a familiar silver blade, and an unfamiliar golden horn. _Gabriel’s Horn_ , Sam realized, mouth falling open.

“Is that – what are you planning to do with those?” Sam asked.

“ _We’re_ going on a little hunting expedition,” Gabriel told him, radiating determination. “To Purgatory.”

Sam felt his jaw drop. “We? We’re going to Purgatory?”

“Fraid so, Samarino,” Gabriel told him.

“Why? Is this a trick? Because –”

“Listen, kid,” Gabriel interrupted. “Here’s how it works. You brought me back from the dead: a huge favor, powered by magic, yadda yadda yadda. Now we’re stuck together. Know why?”

Sam shook his head.

“Because I _owe_ you. That’s how the magic works. I told you last night: once I pay my debt, we’re probably free of one another.”

“Probably?” Sam asked.

“Yes, _probably_ , wise guy,” Gabriel snapped. “I don’t exactly have first-hand experience with this kind of thing. This is the best theory I can come up with.”

Sam frowned. “So you’re going to help me. Why not just grab Dean and Cas and bring them back here. Can’t you do that?”

“Usually, yeah,” Gabriel told him. “Don’t get me wrong: Purgatory’s a strange place. But it works like most afterlives, at least for archangels. If your brother was dead, I’d be able to pick him out and pull his soul back here, no problem.”

“But Dean’s still alive,” Sam pointed out slowly.

“That’s the theory,” Gabriel replied. “And he still has those pesky rib carvings. And he and Cas have no reason to trust I’m there to help them out. It’s gonna be just a bit harder to track them down as a result.”

Sam nodded. He couldn’t help the slow smile creeping up his face. “So we’re going to Purgatory. How?”

“Eat up, and I’ll tell you all about it. Then, you can tell me more about the Leviathans. It’s been a few lifetimes since the last time I fought them, and I’m sure they’ve learned a thing or two since then.” The Trickster smiled evilly. “Then again, I’m pretty sure I have, too.”


	3. Purgatory

Purgatory was strange, once they got there.

Really, it wasn't. Or, it shouldn't have been. Sam's first impression after stumbling through Gabriel’s gate was the normalcy of a deciduous forest. They could have been in any state east of the Louisiana Purchase, from the look of the vegetation and the land. Pennsylvania, maybe, or West Virginia.

And yet, his skin tingled in the Purgatory air, hairs on end with the strange energy of the place. Colors were dull, almost grayed out despite the clear sky and brilliant sun, like an old photograph. Sam found himself caught for a moment, entranced by the juxtaposition of familiar and uncanny.

Reflexively, Sam checked his weapons: silver knives strapped to strategic areas of his person, a super soaker of Borax, and a semiautomatic with half a dozen clips each of silver, rock salt and regular bullets. Gabriel had made a portal for them to pass between the worlds, but it was dangerous even for him to conjure things from Earth, and they had decided to carry what they could. Sam also had a pack of food and bedroll strapped to his back, in case they were there for any extended amount of time, and Gabriel was apparently hiding a small arsenal in wherever it was he kept things.

"To your right!" Gabriel warned, breaking him out of his reverie.

Sam pivoted and pulled out his knife just in time to dodge the pounce of a werewolf.

Gabriel moved past him, faster than Sam could comprehend, and touched the beast on the forehead. Just the briefest touch, and it was flung across the forest and melted into a limp pile of fur.

The werewolf should have been stunned from the impact, if not unconscious, but it began to move again almost immediately. Sam watched in fascination as the fur began to rustle and squirm, finally rising up as a true wolf. It was huge, at least four feet tall at the shoulder, with rough black fur. It snarled at them wetly, growling its disdain.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and snapped. The thing _whimpered_ and turned tail, running into the forest.

 On the ground where it had been, the specter of a human flared brightly, ghostly light bathing the place in true colors before it faded away. Sam started at the stones it left behind, awed.

“What did you just do?” Sam asked, voice hoarse from nerves.

“What do you think?” Gabriel asked, smirk playing on his lips.

Sam looked back at the place the werewolf had fallen. A wolf had sprung up, and stayed in purgatory. A humanoid shape had left.

“You separated the human from the wolf?” Sam asked.

“Got it in one,” Gabriel crowed, flashing Sam a bright smile.

“So the human’s in heaven?” Sam asked.

“Or the other place,” Gabriel shrugged with an air of melancholy. “Didn’t pay attention to where he was headed, just that he was on his way.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, not believing him for a moment, but also not up to challenging an archangel. “I didn’t know angels could do that,” he said instead. “Save human souls from being monsters.”

“Angels can’t,” Gabriel corrected. “ _Arch_ angels can.  Or, _I_ can. I’m sure my big bros could if they tried, but could you imagine them trying? Michael, touching a werewolf with that constipated look, like he could catch something? Easier to just smite. Cleaner, too.” He shook his head and gave a mirthless laugh, something like sorrow in his eyes. “Might as well say it comes with the Trickster powers.”

Sam almost put out a hand to rest on Gabriel’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort, nearly forgetting who the archangel was. He clenched it at his side instead.

“How often can you do it? Will it work against anything we come across here?” Sam asked, deciding to change the tone to something more tactical.

Gabriel shrugged. “I could do it all day, even at limited capacity. Clear out purgatory, or populate it with full monsters, if I wanted to. At least, I can if we only come up against things that started out as human.”

“And the other things?” Sam asked.

 “Depends,” Gabriel said, started to pace and look out into the woods. “Dragons? Alphas? They’re easy. Maybe not so much if I have to keep you alive –”

“I can take care of myself,” Sam reminded the archangel.

Gabriel shrugged. “Good, then they’re a cake walk. Just avoid the Leviathans, stay away from the elder gods, and we’re fine.”

Something shot through the woods, making the ground quake beneath Sam.

Gabriel looked up, as though the leaves could tell him their fate. “Speaking of…” He reached out to grab Sam’s arm “Time to get out of here, Samsquatch!”

“Whatever you need, blanket permission,” Sam told him.

He bent his knees and braced himself, trying not to think how much trust he had just placed in the Trickster.

 

…

 

Angel travel through Purgatory was nothing like travel on Earth. There, it was over in a moment, leaving him shaken but largely unaware of the trip. Here, it was like fast travel in a kid’s movie: everything blurring by, far too fast for him to make out anything but general speed and lurching changes in direction.

He focused on Gabriel’s grip, tight and solid against his arm. He tried to look at the angel for a moment, but his eyes wouldn’t focus anywhere near him, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Gabriel was ensuring that Sam wouldn’t see flashes of his wings. Or something.

When they finally stopped, Sam tumbled to the ground, hands and knees slipping on old leaves as he tried to find anything resembling balance.

“Sorry, kiddo. Like I said, limited capacity. Sticking around would have been much worse for you. Trust me.”

“What was it?” Sam asked.

“Ever read about Yog-Sothoth?” Gabriel asked.

Sam shook his head, then immediately regretted it as he was hit by a wave of nausea.

“Lovecraftian horror,” Gabriel explained simply, reaching down to touch Sam’s forehead. The nausea subsided instantly, and he was able to take a deep, stabilizing breath. “Let’s just say the guy didn’t exactly get all of that from his own imagination. He might have been an A-plus wackado, but he wasn’t that special.”

“Great,” Sam said. “You couldn’t fight it?”

“Not as well as I’d like to right now, after that portal,” Gabriel explained. “Thought you’d rather the definite chance of survival instead of the coin toss.”

And yeah, that was certainly true. “Thanks,” Sam said, surprising himself with the word.

“The river over there’s clean,” Gabriel said, nodding to something behind Sam. When he turned around, sure enough, there was a wide, shallow river running through the forest. “You should have a drink. We’re safe here.”

Sam raised both eyebrows in disbelief.

“Safe enough,” Gabriel amended.

The water was cool enough to feel crisp against his skin, and tasted clean and sweet. Sam let himself take a few moments to enjoy it, knowing he had an archangel watching his back.

“So, how are we supposed to find Dean and Cas?” Sam asked when he had had his fill. “This place is huge. Or can you do the –” he waved his hands vaguely “– angel thing scan for them or something?”

Gabriel raised a sardonic eyebrow at his word choice. “Not exactly,” he said, pulling a lollipop out of one pocket. (Of course he would have packed sweets. Sam refrained from rolling his eyes.) “I’m limited here, Samsquatch. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not flying like I usually do.”

“Nope, didn’t notice at all,” Sam deadpanned.

Gabriel glared at him, and Sam counted it as a win. Rare thing, that, against a Trickster. 

“It’s not too late to send you back to Earth, come get you to do the diplomacy thing when I find them,” Gabriel offered. He had made the same offer earlier, in the motel room. “I could do a good deal of this alone, you know.”

“Right, cause sitting in a motel room waiting isn't going to drive me absolutely insane,” Sam countered. “I’m coming. Dean’s my brother. I’m going to help save him.”

Gabriel shrugged as if it was nothing, but Sam could almost feel his concern, tangible between them.

 “Alright, then,” Gabriel continued. “We’re going to have to do some hunting. _Actual_ hunting.” Sam could hear the jab. “I’m thinking the local fauna will have an idea about where we should look. And there’s a vampire nest not far from here.”

“Sounds good,” Sam agreed, checking his machete. Interrogation. That, at least, was something he was good at. “Where to?”

Gabriel jerked his head to the right and started off, leaving Sam to follow.

“We’re walking?” Sam asked when he caught up with the angel.

“For now,” Gabriel shrugged. “Unless you want to fly.”

Sam blanched, stomach turning at the thought. “No, I’m alright,” he agreed.

 

…

 

As it turned out, vampires had much larger nests in purgatory. Like, 100-strong-kinda-large nests, from Sam’s initial count. He hoped Dean wasn’t dumb enough to try to go against one of these – a real worry, knowing his brother.

 At the moment, Sam felt helpless. Gabriel had led them to the bottom of a cliff – an ‘easily defendable position’ – before calling out the vampires. Sam couldn’t disagree: nothing could sneak up behind them like this, and with Gabriel being an archangel and all, they could get out quick in a pinch. But he didn’t like it.

Right now, he was standing behind Gabriel, machete drawn. Gabriel was calling out the vampires, looking for a leader. To ‘negotiate.’ Dozens of them had congregated around them, pacing like predators, ready to attack but held back. Probably by Gabriel.

Sam had every right to be worried. He was sure of it.

From the throng that had materialized around them, one vampire finally stepped forward. He was the very opposite of everything popular culture believed vampire leaders were: short and stout, dirty, with weatherworn tan skin and scars lining his features. He stared at them, head cocked to the side, for a long moment before letting out a guttural laugh. “A human and his pet monster? Don’t think we’ve seen one like you ’round here before.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Monster? Really?”

“Yer in Pergatory, aren’t you?” the thing asked, voice rough and worn as the rest of him. “Got news for you, boy: no matter how shiny you look, everything here’s a monster.”

Gabriel smirked. “Cute,” he acknowledged, almost grudgingly. “But you and I both know better that that. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’ve heard of another human around here? We want to know where he is.”

The vampire laughed again, and his bravado grated on Sam. “You think we know? If we did, we’d be after him already. Human blood’s a delicacy here.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and gestured lazily toward one of the closest vampires. It leapt at him, crazed and bloodthirsty, but Gabriel just stepped out of the way, reaching out to brush his fingers against its midsection.

Just like with the werewolf, the vampire fell limp on impact, then separated into a bat and a human ghost.

The vampire in charge noticed. His eyebrows jumped to his hairline, and he stepped back from the archangel. “We’ve heard rumors. Nothing more.”

“Care to share the rumors then?” Gabriel asked. Sam had to admit. He was actually not bad at the negotiation thing.

“There’s a river, about four miles that way,” the vampire said, gesturing back to where Sam and Gabriel had come from. “We’ve heard he’s downstream, at least a week’s walk, with something else. Not worth it to go after, though. We won’t be the ones who get them.”

“Who will?” Sam asked, glaring at the vampire.

The vampire looked back at him, laughing a little again. “You should know that, _human_ ,” he spat the last like an insult. “You’re the one who came trespassing in their world.”

“Leviathans,” Sam muttered, because of course they couldn’t get away from the things. 

“They know he’s here. They’re hunting him,” the vampire taunted.

“Enough from you,” Gabriel interrupted. He took a menacingly slow step forward, fingers raised toward the vampire’s forehead.

It retreated back, hissing at the angel.

“All of you, go. Tell the others of your kind what happens when you mess with me,” Gabriel told them, raising his voice so they all could hear. “I don’t think I have to tell you to stay away.”

Before Sam could react, he pivoted and took Sam’s hand. Sam nodded, granting him permission before he flew them the short distance back to the river.

 

…

 

 

 

The flight was much easier to recover from this time, partially because it was so short and partially because Sam was ready for it. He only allowed himself a few minutes and a long drink of water before telling Gabriel it was fine to fly them downriver.

Gabriel shook his head. “I told you, I’m limited here, kiddo,” the angel told him. “I can fly or I can search for our bros. I try to do both, and I’m gonna miss them.”

Sam frowned. “Can’t you take us part way?”

Gabriel raised his eyebrow. “Are you really that dumb?”

“What?” Sam asked.

“Did you think this was the same place we stopped before? We’re a good twenty miles downriver of where we started. I took us as far as I could, but Dad only knows how close or far they are from here.”

Sam sighed, defeated. Instead, he insisted they start walking.

And walking.

And walking.

Even when he should have stopped for a rest, Sam pressed on. Dean could be close. Sam couldn’t stop when there was the possibility of finding his brother so close.

Eventually, Gabriel had enough. After Sam’s third stumble in as many minutes, the archangel heaved a sigh and stopped, one hand on Sam’s shoulder to keep him from walking ahead. “Time for camp!”

“But –” Sam started.

“No buts,” Gabriel insisted. “We’ve been walking for five hours, not counting our trip through the Underhill or our shindig with the vampires. And last I checked, you’re still human, bucko.”

“I can keep going,” Sam protested.

“Yeah, until you fall on that pretty face from exhaustion,” Gabriel countered. “Or maybe faint from starvation first?”

“Can’t you…” Sam snapped his fingers and vaguely waived his arms to illustrate his point, “heal me?”

“Not like that,” Gabriel told him. “Humans have to sleep. And eat. I could maybe delay that, but you won’t like the side effects.”

“What side effects?” Sam asked. Gabriel hadn’t said it was completely impossible, after all. And if it could help them find Dean before the Leviathan, he could probably pay it.

“From not eating? I could take care of the initial stuff – dizziness, fatigue – but one you get to muscle deterioration, it’s all downhill from there. And do you know the psychological effects of sleep deprivation?”

“Insanity,” Sam supplied, thinking back to what he had heard of his hallucinations of Lucifer. He didn’t remember much from it – Cas had taken most of the worst memories – but what he did remember was enough.

“Right. So. How ’bout you and I make something like a camp here?” Gabriel gestured to where they had stopped beside the river. It was not exactly ideal: the muddy wall of the ravine was on their right, the river on their left, and nothing but jagged rocks beneath their feet.

Sam surveyed the area, looking for something more appropriate. “There,” he said finally, pointing to a point downstream where the river bent, creating a pocket of smooth land in its curve.

Gabriel shrugged. “Whatever you want, Sammich. You’re the one sleeping there.”

Camp was easy enough to make. There was no need for a fire – Gabriel could keep them warm without calling out their presence so clearly – and they didn’t have a tent. Sam unrolled his bedroll to sit on and pulled out an apple and an MRE for his meal.

He grimaced as he ate. He had had worse, but not by much.

Gabriel raised his eyes at him, but kept quiet. He silently offered Sam a Hershey’s bar when he was done, which the hunter took gratefully.

“Have you done this before? Come to Purgatory?” Sam asked after he finished eating. He couldn’t understand the comfortable silence that had fallen between them, and he needed something to fill it.

“Once, a long time ago,” Gabriel said, looking up at the nondescript sky, finally turning dark at the end of the long day. There were no stars, but Sam didn’t expect them.

“Was it the same them?” Sam asked.

Gabriel picked up a pebble and tossed it into the river. “Mostly. Less populated, of course. It was before the Leviathans came here.”

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion. “I thought they were older than the angels. Haven’t they always been here?”

Gabriel smirked, but it seemed forced. Sad. “You’re not listening. I said before they came _here._ They were on Earth first.”

“And you drove them out?”

“Michael, Raph, Luci and I fought them, helped send them here. Dad’s plan, of course,” Gabriel nodded. “It was before the fall.”

“I see,” Sam said softly, understanding dawning. This had been a happy memory for Gabriel: a time when his brothers were all alive and fighting on the same side. Together.

“Get some sleep,” the angel said after a long silence. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Yeah, alright,” Sam agreed before stretching out on his bedroll. It was uncomfortable, with the hard ground beneath him and no real pillow, but he had to admit, he was exhausted. He felt exposed, but he tried to calm his nerves, reminding himself that he had an _archangel_ on his side. Gabriel could keep them both safe.

It took a long time to fall asleep. In his last moments of consciousness, he heard Gabriel settle close beside him, and felt a hand on his shoulder, calming the last of his worried mind.

By the time Sam woke up, the archangel was across the clearing, and Sam was almost sure he had dreamt it.

 

…

 

 They settled into an uneasy habit after that: they would rise with the dawn, Sam would eat and Gabriel would indulge in whatever candy he had squirreled away, and then they would walk downstream, stopping for lunch and eventually for the night, always at Gabriel’s insistence. Sam carried his bedroll and food; Gabriel shouldered the extra weapons and borax. Sam was always pushing them forward, desperate to find his brother before the Leviathans.

It hurt, at first. Sam had thought he was in great shape, but nothing on earth could have prepared him for walking the rough terrain for over twelve hours a day. He already felt his body changing to accommodate it: muscles getting leaner, better suited for endurance than raw strength.

They encountered monsters often, but Gabriel usually took care of them almost before Sam knew they were there. On the rare occasion that Sam did fight, he was grateful for Gabriel’s help; Purgatory made these monsters stronger than Earth allowed, and he just barely held his own.

He wondered, often, how Dean was handling them. He hoped having a seraph at his side was as advantageous as having an archangel, but he worried that it wasn’t.

As the days passed, Gabriel took to telling Sam about his past as the trickster in an effort to distract the hunter. The archangel had an endless supply of just desserts to regale him about, many mostly harmless. Sam tended to listen in silence, but he appreciated the effort.

“You know, hiding out didn’t make me a Trickster. Not really,” Gabriel said as they chased the late afternoon light as it slipped to evening on the fourth day. They had just faced down a pack of red-eyed creatures that looked like a cross between gorillas and wolves – creatures they had been forced to kill, as there was nothing human in them for Gabriel to save. “That was always there, even before.”

“Really?” Sam asked, interest piqued. Gabriel hadn’t talked much about his time in Heaven. As generous as he was with stories of tricks and pagan gods, he hoarded stories of Heaven miserly, only giving Sam the barest of hints of them. “What do you mean?”

Gabriel looked over at Sam beside him, not bothering to watch his feet on the uneven ground beside the river. His smile was wide and bright in a way that Sam could see straight through. He felt sad and old to Sam, something he could barely fathom, and still wanted to comfort. “It was my idea that got the Leviathan here in the first place. Dad could have just trapped them all and flung them down, but he never wanted to do things himself. Said it would help us learn, so he had us figure it out.”

“The archangels?” Sam asked.

“Who else?” Gabriel asked. “This was before humans or even lesser angels were created. In those days, Leviathans pretty much ruled a world of beasts, and we kept to Heaven. Adam wasn’t even in the Garden yet.” Gabriel looked up at the sky and sighed, seemingly lost in the memory. “I think Dad knew what was going to happen even then. I mean, He would say of course He did, but I don’t think He always knew as much as He let on. Free will and all that.

“Anyway, we were clearing out Earth, making it suitable for human habitation, I guess, even before humans were around. Mike and Luci wanted to fight them outright – which we tried, once, and failed miserably at. They wanted to try again. Raphael wanted to negotiate, because strategy was always Raphael’s weakest subject. He was the Healer; he was never built for war.”

Sam nodded, wondering if Gabriel knew the role Raphael had taken on after Michael’s death. He decided it wasn’t his story to tell; Castiel or one of the other angels would know more, if Gabriel wanted to know. “What did you suggest?” he asked instead.

“I laid a trap,” Gabriel explained. “The Leviathans wanted us. I don’t know why – for our power, probably, but maybe they were just curious. They didn’t want us dead – they wanted to _devour_ us.”

“Yeah, they had the same idea about humans,” Sam told him, frowning at the memory.

Gabriel waved his arms as if to say ‘What can you do?’

“Nutjobs. Or monster. Whatever.” The archangel continued, “So we gave them Lucifer, made them think he was wounded and alone. Luci gave them a chase – slow enough to make them think something was wrong with him, staying just in front of them. Those pretty wings of his were more than just decoration – he was the fastest of us, once.”

“And now?” Sam asked before he could stop himself. Images flashed through his mind, from the Cage: broken, golden feathers edged with black, forever falling in flames to the pits beneath them. Twisted wings forever in the process of both breaking and healing. He shivered.

Gabriel shook his head. “That would be me, kiddo. Even before this whole apocalypse thing. Lucifer was hurt in the Fall, and Michael and Raphael were getting lazy up there in heaven. Probably fat, too, if it’s possible for archangels to get fat.” He screwed his face up in contemplative disgust. “I was the only one who ever really flew.”

Sam could see Gabriel’s shoulders fall, his eyes going dark at the mention of his brothers’ present states. “What happened then?” he asked, pulling Gabriel back to the story.

A nostalgic smile flashed across Gabriel’s expressive face. “They found him, looking hurt and alone. When he flew, they followed. He flew straight into the heart of Purgatory. We were already there, laying false trails and generally acting as a distraction until he could get them all in. Once they all crossed the border, I closed the gate.”

“With your Horn?” Sam asked. Gabriel had played it the day they came here, weaving low notes together until they formed a physical gate between worlds.

“The very same,” Gabriel nodded.

“Did you play it a lot then?” Sam asked, pushing his luck but needing to know more about this version of the archangel.

“All the time,” Gabriel told him. He hopped onto a rock jutting out from the surface of the river, then to another, avoiding Sam’s eyes as he looked down at his feet. Sam imagined he could feel Gabriel’s melancholy. “It was different then. We lived for centuries alone, the four of us and Dad, before other angels and humans popped up. A weapon like that? Back then, it was just a toy most of the time. I played, and they used to _dance_ …”

Gabriel looked up again, as though he was watching his brothers in the dreary sky. His face was – if Sam could put a word to it, it might have been euphoric. Or heartbroken. Both.

Gabriel sighed, coming back down to Earth. Or Purgatory. “Anyway,” the Trickster said, “I used to think they should have figured it out, me being the Trickster god. I was suited for it, even then.”

“I’m sorry they didn’t,” Sam said hesitantly, immediately regretting the words, but now knowing what else to say. Conversations with Gabriel were so _hard_ when he dropped that persona.

Gabriel laughed, too loud and too boisterously. “I’m not. Could you imagine? The prodigal son returns, and Pops not even there to keep peace? Nooo, thank you!”

Sam thought about it a moment, trying to reconcile this boisterous, exuberant being who forever danced on the edge of just and cruel with his stoic, fanatical brothers. He gave an uneasy huff of agreement, sure the reunion between them would be impossible, and that the best case scenario would be for Gabriel to take on a role that no longer fit for the rest of eternity. “I guess you’re right,” he said.

Gabriel looked over at him sadly, obviously sharing the same thought. “C’mon, it’s getting late. Time for camp.”

“We can make a few more miles,” Sam protested, more out of a sense of duty at this point. He knew he wasn’t going to win against the Trickster. And he was tired – exhausted, really, after all the walking

“We could, but we won’t. It’s getting too dark for you to see, and I don’t want to deal with clean-up duty when you fall.”

Sam sighed. Gabriel was right. Again. “Alright,” he said. “Do you see anything more comfortable than that bluff we found yesterday?”

They found a smooth enough stretch of dirt for Sam to sleep on and made camp. When they were settled, Sam asked something that had been bothering him since the Trickster came back.

“How strong is the bond between us?”

“Whaddaya mean, Sammich?”

“I don’t know,” Sam started. He laid down and waited for Gabriel to sit close next to him before continuing. “It’s just – sometimes I feel things from you. It’s stronger now that we’re in Purgatory.”

“What kind of things?” Gabriel asked slowly, one eyebrow raised.

Sam shrugged. “Emotions, I think.”

The other eyebrow jumped up to join the first. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Sam told him. “Is that from the bond?”

“I didn’t think that would happen,” Gabriel told him, and Sam could sense the truth behind those words. It was even stronger now, that he knew he wasn’t just imagining things.

“Is it going to go away when this is all over?” Sam asked, not sure if he really wanted it to.

“It should, if this works,” Gabriel told him uncertainly. “I don’t know. Like I said, this is new territory for me, too.”

“Right,” Sam said. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against Gabriel’s thigh.

“No sleeping yet, Samsquatch. Dinner time,” the archangel reminded him, running a hand through his tangled hair.

In his exhaustion, Sam had almost missed how famished he was. “Ok,” he said, tiredly pushing himself up to fish a meal out of his pack.

He wanted to eat silently, taking the chance to think on Gabriel’s words. He could feel the Trickster’s unease next to him, though, and it was distracting.

“Tell me more about your time as Loki,” he said instead. “Are all the horse stories real?”

“Of course you would go there,” Gabriel told him with a roll of his eyes. “And no. Do you really not understand how allegory works in mythology?”

“What was the allegory behind the horse sex, then?” Sam asked, already knowing the answer. “I thought it was just a distraction.”

“You know what, Winchester? Sometimes a story’s just a story. It didn’t happen,” Gabriel pouted.

Sam believed the Trickster, but he couldn’t help himself. “Yeah, I’m sure it didn’t,” he said with just enough sarcasm to get a rise out of him.

“You’re just looking for trouble, aren’t you?” Gabriel asked.

“Not really,” Sam said through a sleepy yawn. “You can’t do anything to me. No consent.” He smirked at the Trickster, then laid down beside him again. “Fine. No horse stories. I want to get some sleep, anyway.”

Closing his eyes, he pressed close to the angel, fleetingly wondering when that habit had started. Then he was asleep.

 

…

 

On the seventh day, they ran out of supplies.

Sam hadn’t known how long they would be in Purgatory, so he had packed for rations a week, hoping the load would be light enough that they could move quickly. Gabriel, powerful as he was, wasn’t without limits, and he couldn’t carry much more than Sam without being weighed down – at least not in Purgatory, where the world around them rejected his existence.

“I’ll have to make a supply run,” Gabriel told him when Sam showed him his empty bag. He was sitting on his bedroll, eating the last of the food, as Gabriel paced around the clearing.

“You?” Sam asked. “I thought it was ‘we.’”

Gabriel gave him a dry look. “It _is_ ‘we.’ Just not for this mission.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Look, you want to stay on track, I have to do this one alone,” Gabriel explained. “We go out and come back together, we’re gonna end up where we started – or worse, some random corner of Purgatory. You need to stay here so I have an anchor to come back to.”

“How can you leave without me? I thought we were bound,” Sam pointed out.

“Look, it’s complicated,” Gabriel told him. “Way too complex to explain, but think of it this way: these realms, Heaven, Hell, Earth, Purgatory, they’re kind of adjacent, kinda not. Layered, metaphysically. I go to Earth, I’m not travelling far through the layers, and travel there is different. When I come back here, that bond’ll make sure I don’t end up too far from you, even if I didn’t know where I was going.”

Sam frowned. “So you can go, but do you have to come back?” he asked.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Really now? Like I wouldn’t anyway?”

Sam shrugged.

Gabriel sighed and crouched beside Sam on the ground, staring straight into his eyes. He reached out and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Look, I promised at the start: I’m only helping you here. We’re going to get your brother, find Castiel, and get out of here. I promise.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I got that,” he said, not sure if he really believed it. He wanted to, though – he really did. He almost did.

“Better than nothing,” Gabriel said with a wry sigh. “You hold down the fort. I’ll be back soon.”

He stood up and conjured his Horn from wherever he kept it – Sam tried not to think too hard about that bit of metaphysics – and started to play.

Sam listened to it more intently now, after hearing how Gabriel used to play for his brothers. Last time, he had been distracted as Gabriel wove the particular melody that opened the gates between worlds, but this time he gave it his full attention.

It was beautiful. Angelic. Structured along a single key, each note in perfect harmony to the one preceding it. In some ways, it was the embodiment of the archangel, but it lacked the playful discord of the Trickster. It was a relic of the Gabriel-who-once-was, not the Gabriel he knew. That Gabriel had been the one who composed this, Sam realized.

Sam wondered if there was any new magic left in the Horn, and what it would sound like if Gabriel were to compose with it.

It only took a few minutes for the gate to build: a dark blue circle in the air surrounded by white light.

“Be careful here,” Gabriel warned him when he lowered the Horn from his lips. “I’ll be back as quick as I can, but this magic’s probably gonna attract unwanted attention before that. Stay on guard.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. He grabbed a machete from his arsenal and unsheathed it, then checked the pistol at his hip.

Gabriel nodded at him before disappearing through the portal. A moment later, the light collapsed in on itself, and Sam was alone in the clearing.

 

…

 

Gabriel took longer than Sam expected.

Sam didn’t know how the portal worked – if it affected time or anything – but he had assumed Gabriel would be quick. Hop over to Earth, ransack a supermarket, play his song and come back here. A lot of power used, yeah, but Gabriel was an archangel-god. He was one of the most powerful beings alive in their world.

After an hour, Sam began to worry. His worry was actually multiplied by the fact that he had not yet been attacked. If Gabriel had really lit a flare for all nearby monsters, where the Hell were they?

He began pacing nervously, seeing things out of the corner of his eye. Every time he turned to face them, though, they disappeared.

Until one didn’t.

It came from above, sweeping over the trees on giant, black feathered wings. It was so fast, Sam almost didn’t notice it before it found him.

Reflex saved him: his pistol was in his hand and he was shooting before he realized it. The impact of bullets stopped the thing mid-dive, sending it careening into the river.

That probably saved his ass, Sam realized, because the bullet sure as Hell didn’t seem to do anything. Wings wet, it couldn’t fly out of the water. Instead, it slithered onto the shore.

Sam got a good look at it as it did. The thing had a distinctly lizard-like body, long and thin, with short legs ending in long claws. Its head was feline, akin to a jaguar, Sam thought. Altogether, the mix-matched creature was terrifying.

And fast. As soon as it was out of the water, it was on Sam again, attacking viciously. Sam shot at it, but it dodged the bullets now that it knew what the gun was.

With a great roar, it pounced at Sam and slashed at him with those vicious talons.

The blow hit, and Sam found himself flung across the clearing and into an outcropping or stone, clearly what the thing was aiming for. He felt blood running down his arm from where the talons cut into his muscle, and blackness tinged the edged of his vision. Belatedly, he felt the pain in his head that told him he had knocked it on the stone.

He struggled to get his feet under him. He had to get back on his feet, to fight the thing before it killed him. He scramble at the dirt with both hands – he had lost both his knife and gun when he hit the ground – trying to push himself up.

The thing roared again, but it wasn’t close this time. He braced himself, trying to prepare for another pounce, but it didn’t come.

When he looked up, it was clear why. Gabriel was standing over it, one hand on its head and the other holding his sword. Grace poured out of its mouth and eyes as it burned from the inside out.

When it fell limp, Gabriel turned away and walked toward Sam.

“Looks like I got her just in time,” the angel said, casual tone discordant to the wave of concern Sam felt through their bond.

“Little late, actually,” Sam bit out.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabriel said fondly. He knelt beside Sam and pressed a finger to his forehead, healing him with his sweet, precise brand of Grace. When Sam felt the pain drain away from his arm and head, Gabriel dropped the hand to Sam’s cheek. “Didn’t I tell you to be careful, kiddo?”

“This was careful,” Sam told him ruefully. He felt strength returning to his limbs, but he decided to stay there for just another minute or two longer. Gabriel’s hand felt good there, warm against his cheek. “Thought you’d be back sooner.”

“Me too,” Gabriel told him. “There was trouble back home.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Heaven?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Thought you figured out Earth was my home by now.” He sighed and lowered his hand. “I don’t want to talk about it. You up for walking?”

Sam stretched and stood up, testing his muscles. “I think so.”

“You’ll tell me if you’re not?” Gabriel asked, giving Sam a hard look.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I won’t have to. You’ll know,” he reminded the angel.

Gabriel nodded, satisfied with the answer. “Alrighty then – let’s get going. I’ve got the packs today. You worry about you.”

Sam opened his mouth to argue that he could carry his own weight, but Gabriel just levied another hard stare at him, silently letting him know that he was lucky the archangel was letting him walk at all.

“Sounds good,” Sam said instead. He stretched again, then led the way down the river and toward Dean.

 

…

 

As they walked, the wilderness around them began to change. Overgrown ravines were replaced with sparse stone cliff faces, and the muddy riverbed turned to fine sand. The creatures changed, too: at first, they met mostly werewolves and vampires, but now they were encountering more shifters and even the spare dragon or even basilisk. Purgatory, it seemed, was separated by territories.

On the tenth day, Gabriel stopped Sam late in the afternoon, just an hour or so before it would start getting dark. “Hold up there, Sam-a-lam,” the archangel said, putting a familiar hand on the hunter’s shoulder.

“What is it?” Sam asked, hand immediately going to the silver knife at his belt as he scanned the edges of the forest with his eyes.

“Nothing too close,” Gabriel told him, and Sam could feel waves of anticipation rolling off him. “But I think I got their scent.”

Sam’s head snapped around to look at Gabriel. “Dean? And Cas?”

“Can’t feel anything of your brother, but that’s probably Cassie’s rib work. Castiel’s close, though. About forty, fifty miles downstream.”

“Then you can fly us there, right? If you know where they are?” Sam asked, voice quick and urgent.

“Not so fast, Samarino,” Gabriel said. “It’s a bit trickier than that. There’s Leviathan down there, too.”

“Can’t you just swoop in, grab them and get out of there?”

“That’s probably gonna be the plan actually,” Gabriel agreed. “But I’m thinking of doing it like something a bit less like a suicide mission and more like something that will actually work. Y’know, seeing as I just got back from the dead and all. The Leviathan don’t know I’m here yet, but when they do, they’re going to want me more than my brother. I’m pretty sure they know exactly why they got stuck here in the first place.”

“So what do we do?” Sam asked.

“First, we stop for the night,” Gabriel told him.

“But –”

“No buts. Now that I know where they are, I’m not going to lose track of them. Especially because Castiel isn’t moving. And I want you fresh and awake, not exhausted from a full day of walking.” He paused until Sam nodded his grudging assent. “Good. You camp. I’m gonna go take a look and see what I can see. Then we plan.”

“Alright,” Sam said, spirits lifted by the knowledge that at the very least, Gabriel would have some news on his brother. Maybe, if they were very lucky, Gabriel _would_ be able to just whisk Dean and Cas back here with him.

He knew, of course, that Winchesters are never that lucky. Still, he smiled as he said. “I’ll be fine here on my own. Get back safe.”

Gabriel smiled back, a much nicer smile than his Trickster smirk. “Didn’t know you cared.”

And then he was gone.

Sam went through his now regular routine smoothly, as though he had been doing it for months instead of just days. Before the sky had begun to darken, Sam was sitting on his makeshift bed under a slight outcropping of stone. It didn’t provide any actual shelter, but it did protect their backs, which made Sam less nervous.

Not that he had anything to worry about with Gabriel next to him. The archangel did a fine job of watching his back. He had to smile at that, too.

Which surprised him. When _did_ he start trusting Gabriel? When did it start mattering at that Gabriel was as safe as Dean and Castiel?

He pushed the thought out of his head quickly when he heard the telltale sound of rustling wings to his right. Sure enough, there was Gabriel, alone but looking pleased with himself.

“What did you find?” Sam asked.

“They’re together,” Gabriel confirmed. “Alive and okay for now.”

Sam felt a flood of relief wash over him. Dean was alive. He didn’t know how sure he had been otherwise until Gabriel confirmed it.

Dean’s _alive_. They would find him. Bring him home. Sam wouldn’t be alone; he’d still have his brother. And Castiel. He still had family left.

“That’s the good news,” Gabriel continued.

“There’s bad?” Sam prompted.

“The Leviathans may know I’m hanging around,” Gabriel said, voice oddly apologetic. “They were circling our bros, and I might have drawn them away by using myself as bait.”

“You what?” Sam asked, surprised. 

He hadn't thought Gabriel would have cared enough to do anything like that - to actually _risk_ himself for Dean and Cas.

Gabriel shrugged, suddenly casual. “You know, kids in trouble. I couldn't just leave them on their own; I'd never get to get back to my life.”

“Right,” Sam said, trying not to betray the fact that he could actually feel Gabe’s concern under the lie. “Do the Leviathans know where we are? Did Cas sense you?”

“Not a chance. They've gotten slow and lazy since I last saw them. The Leviathans I knew would have had no trouble finding a hunter and an angel in their own territory - even ones as accomplished as our brothers. I let them chase me a bit, then gave them the slip. Easy-peasy.”

Sam gave a small sigh of relief. "And Cas?"

"Honestly, not a clue," Gabriel admitted. "Usually, I'd say no, but he has an annoying habit of defying expectations."

Sam nodded. He had become rather fond of that habit. “How was he?”

“Dean looked just fine,” Gabriel told him. “Bit banged up, but fit and healthy as you could expect.”

Sam nodded. He was glad to hear it, but that wasn’t what he was asking. “What about Cas? Did he seem – ok? Normal?” There was no good way to ask the archangel if his brother was sane, Sam realized. Not without telling him the whole story of how he got out of the Cage.

“Whaddaya mean, Sammich?”

Sam shook his head. If Gabe didn’t notice anything off, he was probably fine. “It’s nothing,” he said.

Gabriel gave him an inquisitive look, but shrugged when Sam stayed silent.

“Alright. Plan,” Sam demanded after a minute. He took out his meal of dried meat, carrots and an energy bar. He would be so happy to get back to civilization and a good salad with fresh chicken.

“Right. The way I see it, we have three goals. One," Gabriel said, holding up a thumb for emphasis, "we get to them. Two," another finger went up, "I get us back to Earth. And three -" he paused, shifting his hand with the raised fingers to point at Sam like a gun.

"We don't get caught," the hunter finished for him.

"And that's the trick," Gabriel agreed. "I figure we do it all at once. Get to them, open a gate, and get out of Dodge before the Leviathan can get to us."

“Solid. How’re we going to do that?”

“I thought we’d keep it simple. Get to them tomorrow, throw up a door to Earth before anyone can ask any questions, and get out. I’ll need you three to guard me when I open it, though. I’m gonna be useless for a few minutes there.”

Sam nodded. He remembered. “So, tomorrow? You’ll fly us down there?”

“I’ll fly us most of the way,” Gabriel assured him. “Think you can get Deano to trust me?”

“I hope so,” Sam told him. “Anything else I should know about the Leviathan before tomorrow?”

Gabriel shook his head. “You know everything I do, I think.”

Sam nodded and settled into his sleeping bag, Gabriel close beside him, as he usually was. The archangel had stopped leaving in the middle of the night, and would likely be there when he woke.

“I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight,” Sam warned the archangel. He was anxious, excited for the next day, and his body was thrumming with it. Closing his eyes, he could feel his pulse as it swept through his limbs – not racing, but certainly faster than it should be.

“Want me to…?” Gabriel asked, knowing Sam would catch on. This wasn’t the first time Sam had needed a Heavenly sleep aid.

“Please,” Sam said, giving that all-important consent.

He leaned back against the angel’s thigh, and Gabriel put a hand on his forehead. Moments later, he felt the Grace course through him: enough to relax his muscles and calm his heart, but not to actually send him to sleep.

That was okay; he preferred it that way. This would be his last night in Purgatory, and some part of him wanted to preserve it. If all went as Gabe said it would, this would also be his last night tied to the archangel.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He had come to trust the angel, but this was still _Gabriel_ , the Trickster. There was no way Dean would go for him hanging around. Sure, he had apologized, and he was helping Sam save Dean, but he had pretty selfish reasons to do those things. And he had his own life to get back to - not like Cas, who really was family at this point.

No, Gabriel was nothing like Cas. Nothing like the angels at all. If Sam wanted to keep him around, even if he wanted to stay a while, he'd have to choose between him and Dean. And that choice was clear.

"What's up, Sam-pup?" Gabriel sing-songed from above him. "You're muscles are all wound up."

"Nothing," Sam lied, opening his eyes to look up at him. Before Gabriel could call him on it, he added, "It's just a bit shocking. I know it's only been a couple of weeks, but it's all going to be over tomorrow."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Gabriel confessed. "Try and get some sleep for now. Things'll look up by this time tomorrow."

"Yeah," Sam said unenthusiastically.

"Assuming we survive," the archangel added brightly, as if it were a joke.

"We're going to survive," Sam told him. "All of us."

"I know. You've got me to make sure of it. I just wanted to make sure you did," Gabriel said. He raked a hand through Sam's hair comfortingly. "Come on. Sleep. We've got a big day tomorrow."

Sam closed his eyes and settled back into his bedding. "Yeah.  Good night, Gabe."

"Good night, Sam," Gabriel echoed. 

Sam smiled at the correct use of his name.

It took him a long time to fall asleep like that, with Gabriel's warmth behind him and fingers brushing through his hair. It was a fleeting comfort, having an archangel at his back for once, and he wanted to hold onto it.

Still, it was hard when he was so tired. Eventually, sleep found him.

 

...

 

Usually, Gabriel would wake Sam just as the sky was getting light, knowing the hunter wanted to start out early, but that he wasn't used to the daily cycles of Purgatory. Today, though, he let Sam sleep until he woke naturally. Sam appreciated the thought; it could turn out to be a tough day, and he knew he'd need his energy up for it.

Sam rushed through his morning ritual, scarfing down a tasteless breakfast and cleaning up camp sloppily.

“Can you fly us there?” he asked as soon as everything was put away. “Now?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him. “Bit eager there, aren’t we?”

“Gabriel,” Sam said warningly. Of _course_ he was eager. Now was not the time for the archangel to toy with him.

“Alright, alright. Here, chew on this,” he held a piece of plain gum out to Sam, and Sam looked at him questioningly. “You’ve probably never been carsick in your life, but I hear this helps. With flight like it is here, it’s worth a shot.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, but he took the gum and popped it into his mouth. Why he was still surprised by Gabriel’s kindness, he didn’t know. It seemed more in character for the Trickster since his reincarnation, that cruel streak apparently softened by death.

“Come on, let’s do this thing,” Gabriel said, taking Sam’s arm and

The flight was just as bad as the last time, even with the gum, unfortunately. It was blessedly short, but Sam still just barely held himself together when they landed, opting to fall to the ground in a controlled tumble instead of fighting his buckling knees. He perched on a large stone, head between his legs as he stared down at the fallen leaves on the uneven ground.

“Y’alright there, Samsquatch? Not enough oxygen for you way up there?”

Sam grimaced at the archangel’s teasing. Gabriel did not seem at all affected by the chaotic flight. Of course.

“How far are we?” Sam asked when he felt recovered enough.

“About a mile and a half out,” Gabriel told him. “No sign of Leviathan, or anything else nearby.”

Sam frowned. “I don’t trust it.”

Gabe shook his head. “Neither do I, kiddo. But that’s what I see.” He snapped his fingers and Sam’s thermos was in his hand; Sam felt it in the decreased weight of his pack. “Have a drink, get your feet under you. We have a party to get to.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, taking it gratefully. The water wasn’t exactly what he needed, but it was a start. “Let’s get going.”

He got to his feet hesitantly, and was relieved to find his legs were holding him as they should again. “Where exactly are we going?” he asked.

“This way,” Gabriel told him, pointing downhill.

“Alright.” Sam started off, leaving Gabriel in his wake.

Despite the slippery leaves and the decline, it was an easy walk. Sam realized his muscles had adjusted to the constant movement, and he wondered fleetingly if he should keep himself trained when they got back home.

He decided against it. Dean would want to be out on the road again immediately, dragging him to dive bars and fast food joints between jobs. It would be all Sam could do to keep himself in his normal shape.

He smiled at the thought. Dean was less than a half hour’s walk away. For once, _he_ was going to save his big brother.

“We clear on the plan?” Gabriel asked as they walked. Sam noticed that he already had his horn out, ready to go as soon as they found Dean and Cas.

“We get there, you open the portal, we all jump through. Dean, Cas and I make sure nothing distracts you, just in case,” Sam told him. “Anything else?”

“That’s about it. Maybe make sure your bro and his beau don’t try to kill me in the process.”

“I think I can do that,” Sam told him, smile still on his lips.

They walked in silence a few minutes more, which was just fine by Sam. He was looking forward to seeing his brother – wondering if maybe tonight they should spoil themselves. Dean would probably kill for a good burger after weeks of scavenging here. Or steak – they could treat themselves to one of those overprices places with the fresh-from-the-butcher cuts, go for pie afterwards. It wasn’t really Sam’s thing, but Dean would love it.

He was completely distracted by his excitement when Gabe spoke up. “So what’s the plan after this? There a do-gooder itinerary somewhere?”

Sam rolled his eyes. As though the trickster hadn’t done his part trying to save the world. “I dunno. Dean will want to hit the road – he’ll be missing the Impala by now. There’s always something to hunt.”

“Just stay away from the demigods,” Gabriel warned.

“If you can stay out of trouble,” Sam shot back.

Gabe gave him a sly wink. “Or make sure I’m not caught.”

Sam gave the archangel a measuring stare. He was in the same boat they were: almost no family, most friends gone, coming back to a world he was supposed to have left, one way of another. “What are you going to do?” he asked seriously.

Gabriel gave a full body shrug. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from my time on earth, it’s that just desserts are always a big hit. That and porn.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “So, back to your old life?”

“That’s the plan. Just me and my freedom, and my dog – I’m going to need a new dog; I think Kali took Fen.”

“Fen?” Sam asked.

“Inside joke. Don’t ask,” Gabriel told him.

“Sure,” Sam said.

They fell into silence again, Sam concentrating on what was in front of them, and Gabriel an energetic ball beside him. The trickster eventually conjured a lollipop to give his hands something to do, but Sam could see unease in his frame. Sometimes, the archangel seemed more human than angel.

“Y’know,” Gabe said eventually, going for casual and failing miserably. “If you ever need anything – something to help you hunt – I still hear prayers.”

“Really?” Sam asked.

“I’m an angel, aren’t I?” the trickster asked.

“Sometimes I forget,” Sam told him.

“Yeah. Me, too,” Gabriel confessed. He shook his head and gave Sam a smarmy grin. “Anywho, just because we won’t be tied together – I hope – doesn’t mean I won’t hear you.”

Sam smiled at the trickster. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

Gabriel calmed down visibly, and Sam looked ahead, concentrating on navigating the forest as they made their way to their destination. The silence was companionable, and Sam almost found himself relaxing, until he remembered that they were in Purgatory, and a monster of any kind could attack at any second.

Eventually, Gabe stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Just ahead. About a hundred yards. They’ve stopped for lunch,” the angel said, pointing forward and slightly to the right through the underbrush. “I’ve been warding us until now, but I think Castiel just caught a clue.”

Sam grinned manically and rushed forward, eager to see his brother.

Halfway there, he heard Dean calling for him, his voice reflecting disbelief. “Sammy?”

“Dean!” Sam called out, heedless of the possibility of monsters around them. They had two angels for backup. They’d deal.

“Sam!” Dean called again, stronger this time.

Sam pushed through a clump of brush, using his brother’s voice as a guide, and came out into a small clearing, face to face with Dean and Cas.

He pulled his brother into a hug as soon as he saw him, glad that he was alive. Here. Soon to be back on Earth.

“What the Hell are you doing here, Sammy?” Dean asked as they pulled away, worry in his eyes.

“What do you think? I’m getting you out of here.”

Dean pressed his lips together in a mix between a grimace and a smile. He was a wreck – facial hair grown too long, covered in dirt and blood. Some of it was his; Sam could see healing cuts and bruises decorating the left side of his face, a new scar under his right eye.

“So you’re not –” Dean asked, not quite able to get the words out.

Sam shook his head. “Not dead. Not a monster.” He took out a silver knife to prove the point, but Cas stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“That’s not necessary,” the angel said, the first thing he’d said since Sam found them. “It’s good to see you, Sam.”

Sam smiled and pulled Cas into a hug, though not as bone-bruising as the one he had given his brother. “You too, Cas.”

To his delight, Cas hugged back.

“How did you get here?” Dean asked. “And how are we getting home?”

“That would be me,” Gabriel said, popping into the clearing like the drama queen he was.

Dean looked between Gabriel and Sam in surprise. “ _Gabriel?_ You trust him? You didn’t make some kind of deal, did you?” Dean’s voice rose in anger and disbelief with every word.

Sam put his hands up, trying to placate his brother. “Dean, just trust me –”

“Sorry to cut this completely unexpected argument short, but we’ve got company,” Gabriel interrupted. “Sam! Leviathan! Hold them off for me!”

He tossed the two borax-filled super soakers he had been carrying on his back to Sam

“What?” Dean asked, suddenly in full hunter mode, crude knife in hand and in a battle ready stance.

“It was a trap. That's why it was so easy to get to you,” Sam realized. Black clouds were raining down around them, then billowing up to form into Leviathan in human form. “Here. Borax.” He held out one water gun to Dean, who sheathed his knife and took it. “Protect Gabriel.”

He glanced back at the archangel, who was already starting to play his horn. The required song was soft and melodious, a discordant counterpoint to the adrenaline running through Sam's veins. One monster was already closing on him, and Sam aimed his gun and shot the thing.

It fell back with a satisfying hiss of pain, and Sam turned to take in the rest of the clearing.

“What's going on, Sam?” Dean asked as he sprayed another one. Cas was behind Dean, fighting one on his own. He was winning.

“Trust me,” Sam begged his brother. “Gabe's gonna get us out of here, but he needs time.”

Dean nodded before turning to take out another beast with a splash of poison.

“Castiel,” a voice cultured male took over the clearing, sickeningly sweet and altogether too threatening at the same time. “And the human who killed my protégé. I've been waiting to meet you two.”

They turned to see a gigantic creature entering the clearing. It was bug-like in body, with huge insectoid legs splaying out from a thorax the size of the Impala. It all led up to a smooth black head, with a gaping mouth and endless rows of teeth.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean swore. Sam was inclined to agree. “Do Leviathans have alphas?”

“I’m thinking yes,” Sam said. “Or something very similar.”

“Oh, I remember you!” The thing exclaimed with childlike joy as it looked over Gabriel. The archangel didn’t even flinch, concentrating on creating a portal – now just a wisp blue fog in the air before him – with his horn instead. It went on, “We didn't think we'd see you again. How exciting! The little angel who condemned us here. I wonder what will taste better: revenge or _you_.”

Sam aimed at the thing and let loose a spray of borax. It hissed at him, backing away from Gabriel and his nascent portal to circle him instead. Sam aimed again, but nothing came out when he fired. He was out of the solution.

“Shit,” he swore, tossing the toy gun at the Alpha Leviathan.

“You’re telling me,” Dean said from behind him. A weak spray shot over his shoulder at the Alpha. It looked like Dean was just about out, too.

Sam pulled his machete out of its sheath on his thigh. Not that it would do anything against _that_ monstrosity, but there were other Leviathan around, too. Their heads would be much easier to sever from their necks.

“We just have to hold it off a minute longer,” Sam told Dean, glancing back at Gabriel. The portal was almost complete, forming itself into a dark blue circle in the air, surrounded by a halo of white light. He had only seen Gabriel do this twice before, but he was pretty sure that meant he was almost done. Still, it was taking longer than it had the last two times.

“And how the Hell do you expect we do that?” Dean asked.

“Allow me,” Castiel said, moving between them. “Take care of the rest.”

Sure enough, three other Leviathan were running up behind Cas, intent on the hunters. Sam pivoted and moved to slash one’s neck with his blade. It dodged, but at least it was distracted for a moment.

“Dean, little help?” he asked.

Dean had his crude blade out again, and pivoted around to Sam’s side. The brothers pounced on the Leviathan together, a lifetime of training paying off in the silent coordination of their attack. Sam glanced back to see Castiel raising a hand to the alpha Leviathan and attaching him with an onslaught of pure grace.

The thing laughed: a bone-chilling sound that resonated throughout the clearing. “Little Castiel. An angel in a human vessel. But you were my children’s vessel for a time, weren’t you? Such good times, Castiel. I wonder if you would do the same for me.”

It raised one spiny leg and touched Cas on the shoulder. It melted into familiar black goo, which _writhed_ over his body, looking for a way in. Cas looked paralyzed; traumatized.

Something caught Sam’s arm, pulling him away from the scene.

Too late, he realized his mistake: he had turned his back to the remaining Leviathans, and one was pulling him in. Its head was gone now, replaced by rows of teeth. Sam jerked his arm back, but it had a tight hold, and was reeling him in.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Dean said. He was suddenly behind the thing, beheading it with his knife.

 _Thank God,_ Sam thought.

There were only a few more, but when Sam looked back to check, the Alpha was still on Castiel, trying to _invade_ him. Cas seemed pinned to the spot, terrified.

Before Sam or Dean could react, Gabriel was there, fighting his way between Castiel and the Leviathan. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s polite to ask first?” Gabriel asked jauntily.

An angel blade appeared in his hand, and he deftly cut the leg from the Leviathan’s body.

“Winchesters, _go_. The Leviathans can’t pass through,” Gabriel called over his shoulder before throwing out a hand to touch the thing with a blinding flash of Grace. “We’ll be right behind.”

“Right!” Sam acknowledged.  He grabbed Dean by the arm and nodded to the portal.

Dean followed quickly, but distrust was still clear on his features. “You sure about this, Sammy?” he asked.

“One hundred percent,” Sam assured him, letting go of his arm to fend off a Leviathan. “I told you – I’ll explain later.”

 “Alright,” Dean said.

Sam glanced back one more time at Gabriel and Cas, but they seemed to be ok, and making their way to the portal themselves. So he grabbed his brother again and pulled them both through.


	4. Home

Gabriel was nothing if he was not clever. He had sent the portal back to the Impala, right where Sam left it: hidden innocuously in a storage container he had paid off three months in advance. If nothing else, Dean was placated by the familiar sight of his baby, if only for a moment.

“We’re back on earth?” Dean asked, incredulous. Sam could see the emotion swelling in his eyes as he leaned against the car.

“Right back where we started,” Sam confirmed.

“I missed you, baby,” Dean said, looking down at the Impala. Sam knew it was at least partially because he didn’t want Sam to see his face.

Sam looked back at the portal, giving his brother an illusion of privacy, just in time to see Cas stumble through, looking rather worse for wear but alive. Gabriel had a smirk plastered to his face, clearly in character. His eyes looked tired and he was favoring his left side, though, so the whole expression came off as more of a grimace.

Castiel was still covered in the black goo of dead Leviathan. His whole body was tense, like it was back when they first met him, as though he was half out of his vessel and somewhere else instead.

“Well, that was fun,” Gabriel said.

“I don’t think –” Cas started.

“Sarcasm, Cas,” Dean interrupted. And wow, Dean hadn’t had to explain that to the angel in a while. Sam frowned at the implication. Dean did too, and it looked like he wanted to say something else, but he glanced at the Trickster instead. “So, what the Hell just happened? And why are we trusting him now?”

“I was trying to rescue you,” Sam started, preparing to tell the whole tale right there in the dank storage locker.

“Hold up, big guy,” Gabriel interrupted. He snapped once, and suddenly the blood and goo was gone from all of them. Their clothes weren't exactly clean, but the worst was gone. At least they weren't going to be brought in on murder charges if they went out in public.

“Dean,” Cas said, crossing the small room to put a finger on Dean's forehead apparently following Gabe's lead. Sam watched at the cuts and bruises mended on his brothers exposed skin.

“Mojo's back up to snuff, huh?” Dean asked the angel with a fond grin.

“I'm sorry I couldn't do that before,” Cas told him.

“Now I don't know about you guys, but I'd rather have this conversation over pie,” Gabriel suggested, obviously rolling his eyes at the two of them, though Sam was the only one looking at him. “An angel cannot live on lollipops alone.”

“Dinner first?” Sam asked. “I was thinking steak.”

Dean shook his head. “We can have steak tomorrow, Sammy. Burgers tonight. But I need an explanation.”

“Yep, you’ll definitely get it. Over food,” Gabriel insisted.

“I’m driving,” Dean told him, holding out one hand. Sam fished into his bag to find the keys before handing them over. “Where the Hell are we anyway?”

“Castle Storage,” Sam told him, only a little chagrined at bringing big brother back to this exact spot for his first moments back on earth. “In Buffalo.”

“Of course we are,” Dean sighed.

 

…

 

Dean chose a trendy pub in the heart of the city for dinner – an odd choice, until Sam saw the sign advertising their award winning burgers. Dean checked his phones on their way over – Kevin needed them, and Garth wanted them to call when they could – and acted altogether too normal for a man who had spent over a month fighting for his life in Purgatory.

 Oddly enough, Gabriel stayed with them the whole way, even going so far as to ride in the back seat with Cas. Sam wondered with a sense of dread if Gabriel _could_ leave, or if they were still tied together. It made him frown as he read through the menu, covertly glancing at the archangel. Gabriel looked relaxed, but something about his stance was off. Something under the surface made Sam think that was a façade.

Dean waited until they had ordered their food and had their drinks served before asking the inevitable. “So, you gonna tell us what the Hell happened while we were on vacation?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I tried to bring you back. It didn’t work out as planned the first time around.”

“So you brought back the Trickster instead?” Dean asked.

“What can I say? I earned that title, Deano,” Gabriel told him with a smirk.

Sam glared at him. He was not helping. “There were these witches. _Pagans_ , not the demon worshipping kind. I helped exorcise a demon for them, and they gave me a spell to bring someone back from the afterlife. It was supposed to bring you back.”

“To be fair, I did explicitly lie when I wrote that spell,” Gabriel interjected. “It was never going to work for a human.”

Dean looked somewhere between angry and amused. “So you brought him back, and now you’re working with him? Why?”

“It’s complicated,” Sam said. “We – ah, we were bound together. Because I brought him back. He thought he had to repay the debt, so he helped me find you.”

“Right,” Dean said. He took a long swig of beer. “So what happens now?”

“I don’t know. Can you leave?” Sam looked at Gabriel expectantly. 

The archangel snapped and disappeared. A second later he was back, wearing a beret. “Looks like you’re free of me, Samsquatch,” he said.

“Great,” Sam said, smiling. He turned back to Dean. “Problem solved. Gabriel goes back to his life, we go back to ours.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean said. He smiled at the waitress, who was coming over with a gigantic plate with a huge burger and about a pound of fries. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said with a wink.

Sam caught Cas glaring at Dean even as he thanked the waitress for his own burger (ordered on Dean’s insistence, of course).

“Simple as that? Sounds good to you?” Sam asked, accepting his salmon burger and sweet potato fries. Gabriel, of course, got the chocolate lava cake.

“I thought he’d be more argumentative,” Gabriel said to Sam _sotto voce._

“Hey, I’ve spent the better part of the last two months running from Leviathan and fighting every other monster you or I have ever even heard rumor of. Sounds to me like I owe you one there, Gabe,” Dean pointed out.

“Man’s got a point,” Gabriel agreed.

“I think we’re even, actually,” Sam corrected him, though he was smiling at the archangel.

“What are your plans now, brother?” Cas asked, staring at his burger with equal parts intrigue and aloofness.

“I dunno…a little of this, a little of that. I figure I’ll follow the news, see where I can serve some justice, find some fun. I hear St. Louis needs my attentions these days.”

“So you’ll resume your role as Trickster?” Castiel asked. There was something Sam couldn’t quite read in his voice.

“What else am I going to do?” Gabriel asked. “And before you ask, there is no way I’m heading back to Heaven. I’m not interested.”

“That was not what I was suggesting, brother,” Castiel told him. “I was alluding to other obligations you may find more enjoyable to fulfil.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Little Cassie. I didn’t think you had it in you,” he teased. He forked the last piece of cake into his mouth, making Sam wonder just how he had inhaled it like that.

“Mind sharing with the rest of the class?” Dean asked.

“No,” Castiel answered. “We should be celebrating our return.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Dean said with a shrug, raising his beer in a salute before draining his glass.

 

…

 

The four of them partied through the night. As soon as they finished dinner, they headed to a low key bar, then spent the night drinking top shelf whiskey, dancing and playing pool. Gabriel produced a credit card that seemed to have no upper limit, and bought a round of drinks for the entire bar a time or two, while keeping the Winchesters’ glasses happily full all night.

Surprisingly, Dean didn’t so much as flirt with the women there, and though a few bold ones approached him, he seemed completely uninterested. Sam originally filed it away to think about later, but he was confronted with it head-on when they finally headed toward the nearest motel at the end of the night and Dean paid for two rooms.

“Two?” Sam asked, taking his key card.

“Course, Sammy. Unless you want to share with me and Cas?” Dean asked, voice heavy with sarcasm.

“With –” Sam looked between the two, realization dawning. Right. “Nope. No, I’m absolutely good not staying with you and Cas.”

Dean smirked.

“About time,” Sam added with a smirk.

“Bitch,” Dean accused, leveling Sam with a heatless glare.

“Jerk,” Sam shot back with a smile. He was pretty sure that was all that needed to be said on the matter.

Gabriel followed him back to his room with a lazy saunter. Sam ignored the awful décor of the room they found, but Gabriel shook his head as he took in the Technicolor curtains and bedspread against the murky brown walls. Before Sam even put his bag down, the archangel snapped up a much classier place for him to spend the night.

Again, Gabriel morphed the bed into a larger, softer version of itself, with clean white linens and far more pillows than the original. The walls lightened to a warm tan, and the carpet stabilized as to one rich red color. The changes made Sam’s alcohol-fogged head swim, but he appreciated the newfound simple comfort of the room.

“Thanks,” Sam said. He tossed his bag on the floor and flopped into the large bed.

“I’ll be leaving then?” Gabriel asked more than said.

“Guess so,” Sam said with a frown. He wanted the archangel to stay; they had become close in the past few weeks, and he wanted to keep that. And Gabriel – what was Gabriel going to do without him?  The lonely life of a Trickster was no path for an archangel. Last time, Gabriel had done it because he was avoiding a family he loved too much to see destroy itself. But now, with God missing and his brothers dead, what would Gabriel really have to live for?

“Sober me up?” Sam asked, not fully able to think through the whiskey haze.

“Really? I spent all night liquoring you up and now you want me to just undo it all?” the archangel asked.

“Gabriel,” Sam whined.

“Fine, fine,” Gabriel sighed, walking over to touch Sam on the forehead. “You Winchesters are so pushy.”

“Dean was pretty easy tonight,” Sam argued. He closed his eyes as the alcohol washed out of his system, giving himself a moment to reorient to sobriety.

He opened them again when he felt the bed dip. Gabriel was sitting next to him, staring down at him with those whiskey eyes. “I’ll refrain from the obvious joke about how easy your brother is,” he said dryly.

“Thanks,” Sam said.

“So what did you want to sober up over?”

“Do you really want to go back to being the Trickster?” Sam asked. “Isn’t it lonely?”

“I don’t think you get it, kid,” Gabriel said. “I _am_ the Trickster. Just like I’m the Archangel Gabriel. Whatever else I do, that’s always going to be true.”

“I thought so,” Sam said, suddenly sure his worries were just driven by alcohol. Gabriel had been so insistent on freeing himself from Sam.  Why would he want to stick around longer, now that he could go back to his old life?

Gabriel sighed and ran one hand through Sam’s long hair. “I think you need some sleep, Samoose.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” he said, getting up and moving away from the hand. He turned, a thought occurring to him. “What was Cas talking about before, about other obligations?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Really? You can’t guess?”

Sam shook his head.

“I’m gonna head out, but remember what I told you, about the prayers,” Gabriel told him. “Send one my way if you figure it out.”

“Yeah, I will,” Sam said. “If I need you, I’ll pray.”

“Even if you don’t, kiddo,” Gabriel told him. He looked Sam over like he was going to say something else, but then he just smirked instead.

He snapped, and then he was gone.

Sam took a deep breath, then stayed there for a long time before getting himself ready for bed.

That morning, he discovered he no longer liked waking without Gabriel there. He didn’t pray, though.

 

…

 

Getting back into a routine was harder than Sam expected. Without Bobby or his house to call home, they no longer had much of anything anchoring them. It was just the three of them, two hunters and an angel, travelling in an old car without much more.

They started by searching for Kevin and the Angel Tablet, but he was harder to find than he should have been. After a couple of weeks without leads or any more calls, they tracked down Garth to get help.

They took on a few cases on their way, too – salt and burns and a stray werewolf that they came across as they travelled. Dean and Cas fought with amazing efficiency, their bond strengthened and their skills honed by their time in purgatory. Sam wondered if Gabriel could cure the affliction here on Earth, or if separating the soul from the wolf would kill them both.

Sam spent as much time as he could alone. Too often, he thought he saw or heard Gabriel nearby – caught a feeling of the Trickster, somehow – but it was always an illusion. Or maybe it was Gabriel checking up on him covertly. He couldn’t tell, but it made him unsettled, and it happened less often when he was alone.

And besides, he really didn’t want to be around Dean and Cas. Not that they were any different now – they weren’t indulging in any PDAs or anything like that at least – but they _were_. There was a weirdness Sam couldn’t really identify about it all, and he just wanted to avoid it all.

He wondered, more than once, if he’d be better off leaving them and going off on his own: finding a place to settle down, maybe find someone to build a simpler life with. A girl, a dog, and a job somewhere where no one asked too many question. But who would he find, and how could he be happy pretending life was simple when he knew how complicated the world really was?

Dean let him get away with it for about three weeks before he confronted his brother.

“Alright, princess, what’s with the sulking?” Dean asked after walking into Sam’s motel room one morning. Even though it was almost 10, Sam was still in his room, dressed and showered but completely unwilling to acknowledge the world outside his motel room. It was so much easier to lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling instead.

“What sulking?” Sam hedged.

Dean raised a hand and motioned toward Sam. His brother had a point, of course. Usually, he would have already been out for a run, then to breakfast and finding Dean to discuss their plans by this point in the morning.

“It’s nothing,” Sam said.

“Really, Samantha? That’s what you’re going with here?”

Sam rolled his eyes and lied. “I was just about to pack. We can head out after that.”

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean tried again. “Is this about me and Cas?”

“What -?” Sam asked before he figured out what Dean was asking. “No, not at all. I’m happy for you guys, really.”

“Then Gabriel?” Dean asked.

Sam’s eyebrows flew up, surprised by his brother’s astuteness. “I – no.”

Dean sighed. “Whatever. Just get over it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said disinterestedly. He felt a wave of disconcerting annoyance, and he knew it wasn’t his. Gabriel, then. Because he still felt things like that from him.

Dean must have noticed, because he gave him a concerned look. “What’s up? Really?”

Sam sat up and shook his head. “It’s nothing. It’s just –” he sighed. “Do you know anything about angel bonds? Like, anything Cas told you?”

“Bonds?” Dean asked. “Like what Cas and I have?”

“No, not like that. Nothing like that,” Sam told him. “Just – Gabriel and I had one. Kinda – I can feel him sometimes. It was supposed to be gone by now.”

“And it’s not?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged noncommittally.

“So, let me get this straight. You saved him. He saved me and Cas. And now he’s gone, but he’s, what? Buzzing around in your head? And you didn’t think to ask an angel about it? Like Cas? Or, I don’t know, Gabriel?”

“Cause he’s so forthcoming with information,” Sam said sarcastically.

“Fine. You’re not going to fix it, I will.” Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, then turned around and look up with the most irate expression on his face. “Gabriel, get your ass down here,” he said angrily.

To Sam’s surprise, Gabriel materialized immediately. He was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, with his old green jacket over it – or a copy of it, most likely – and was popping M&Ms into his mouth with great flourishes.

“What can I do ya for, Deanster?” the archangel asked.

“Fix whatever the hell you did to my brother,” Dean told him. He turned around and left the room, leaving the two of them alone.

Still lying on the bed, Sam glanced over at Gabriel, who was raising his eyebrows questioningly. “Hi Gabe,” he said lamely.

“Hey there Sammich. What’s up?” Gabriel asked cautiously.

Sam sighed and sat up. “Nothing,” he lied.

“Alright,” Gabriel said, sitting on the bed. “And the truth this time?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You know – you know how when we had that bond, how I felt you sometimes? Like, in bursts every now and then?”

Gabriel nodded.

“I think it’s still there,” Sam said. “And even if it isn’t, maybe I just want it to be?”

“Oh,” Gabriel said.

“Oh?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t think you’d pick up on that,” Gabriel confessed. “I thought it had weakened enough that I’d be the only one.”

Sam’s head shot to the side to look at the archangel. “You mean, we’re still bound?”

“Kinda funny thing about angel bonds,” Gabriel told him, “Apparently they can’t be broken. Ask Cas and Dean about that.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “But they’re different –”

“Cas saved Deano from Hell. You saved me from death. Same concept, different execution,” Gabriel told him with a shrug. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Sam asked. “What are you sorry about?”

Gabriel looked at him seriously. “You can’t get rid of me. I mean, we don’t have to be together all the time or anything anymore. But we’re gonna be tied together for a long time. Like, longer-than-human-life-expectancy long I know that wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Not when it first happened, no,” Sam confessed.

Gabriel raised one eyebrow. “And now?”

“Well I wasn’t too happy with you being gone all the time,” Sam confessed.

Gabriel smiled. “That’s an improvement.”

Sam smiled back for a moment, but his face fell on his next thought. “I was going to ask you to stay, actually, but you said you had to be the Trickster –”

“Wrong!” Gabriel interrupted. “I said I was the Trickster no matter what. It’s what I _am_ but it doesn’t have to be my only gig. I could, for example, hang out with a couple of hunters and my little brother for a while, and I’d still be a Trickster.”

“Really?” Sam asked.

Gabriel sighed and put one hand on Sam’s bicep. It was warm, steadying. “Yes, really. You really are the dumbest smart person I’ve met, you know that?”

“Just because you’re physically incapable of being clear about _anything_ –”

“It’s not my fault you don’t listen, Winchester,” Gabriel shot back with a smile.

“You’re staying then?” Sam asked, more serious.

“If that’s what you want,” Gabriel told him. His thumb brushed up and down over Sam’s shoulder.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I really think it is.”

 “Good. Me, too,” Gabriel said. The archangel lifted his hand from his shoulder to run through Sam’s hair, as he had so many times before. Sam leaned into the touch. “Guess I can do this now.”

He leaned forward and kissed Sam. It was new, a masculine mouth hot and demanding against his lips, and for a moment, Sam was still with surprise. Gabriel used the hand in his hair to tug him forward, the archangel as hungry and gluttonous for Sam as for sweets.

That kick-started Sam into moving. He pressed into the archangel, using his taller frame as leverage as he took control of the kiss. One hand on Gabriel’s face, the other wrapped around his back, he pulled him down onto the bed to lie together as they kissed.

Eventually, he pulled back to look at that archangel. “So this is a thing?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Samsquatch. This is a thing.”

 


End file.
